i4 


MISS  BILLY 


BY  THE  AUTHOR 

OF 

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THE  PAGE  COMPANY 
53  Beacon  Street,  Boston,  Mass. 


From  a  Painting  by  Griswold  Tyng 


MISS  BILLY 


ELEANOR  H.  PORTED 


With  a  frontispiece  in  colour 
from  a  (tainting  by 

QRISWOLV  'GYNQ 


BOSTON        +        THE  PAGE 
COMPANY  <&  PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1911,  by 
THE  PAGE  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved 


Twenty-second  Impression,  November,  1920 


THE  COLONIAL  PRESS 
C.  H.  SIMONDS  CO.,  BOSTON,  U.  8.  A. 


TO 

jttp  GHncle  |)arrp 


1824061 


CONTENTS 


3HAPTEB  PA«H 

I.  BILLY  WHITES  A  LETTER        ...  1 

.  II.  "  THE  STRATA  " 8 

III.  THE  STRATA — WHEN  THE  LETTER  COMES  14 

IV.  BILLY  SENDS  A  TELEGRAM      ...  25 
V.  GETTING  READY  FOR  BILLY    ...  32 

VI.  THE  COMING  OF  BILLY    ....  43 

VII.  INTRODUCING  SPUNK         ....  51 

VIII.  THE  ROOM  —  AND  BILLY  ....  59 

IX.  A  FAMILY  CONCLAVE        ....  70 

X.  AUNT  HANNAH 76 

XI.  BERTRAM  HAS  VISITORS  ....  88 

XII.  CYRIL  TAKES  His  TURN  ....  96 

XIII.  A  SURPRISE  ALL  AROUND       .       .       .  105 

XIV.  AUNT  HANNAH  SPEAKS  HER  MIND       .  Ill 
XV.  WHAT  BERTRAM  CALLS  "  THE  LIMIT  "  120 

XVI.  KATE  TAKES  A  HAND      .       .       .       .129 

XVII.  A  PiNK-Ri330N  TRAIL     .       .       .       .137 

XVIII.  BILLY  WRITES  ANOTHER  LETTER  .       .  143 

XIX.  SEEING  BILLY  OFF 152 

XX.  BILLY,  THE  MYTH 160 

XXI.  BILLY,  THE  REALITY        .       .       .       .169 

XXII.  HUGH  CALDERWELL  .....  180 

XXIII.  BERTRAM  DOES  SOME  QUESTIONING      .  194 

XXIV.  CYRIL,  THE  ENIGMA          .       .       .       .203 
XXV.  THE  OLD  ROOM  —  AND  BILLY       .       .  208 

XXVI.  "  Music  HATH  CHARMS  "...  217 
vii 


Vlll 


Contents 


CHAPTER 

XXVII.  MARIE,  WHO  LONGS  TO  MAKE  PUD- 
DINGS         

XXVIII.  "  I'M  GOING  TO  WIN  "  .      .       .       . 

XXIX.  "  I'M  NOT  GOING  TO  MARRY  "    . 

XXX.  MARIE  FINDS  A  FRIEND 

XXXI.  THE  ENGAGEMENT  OF  ONE 

XXXII.  CYRIL  HAS  SOMETHING  TO  SAT  . 

XXXIII.  WILLIAM  Is  WORRIED   .... 

XXXIV.  CLASS  DAY 

XXXV.  SISTER  KATE  AGAIN      .... 

XXXVI.  WILLIAM  MEETS  WITH  A  SURPRISE    . 

XXXVII.  "  WILLIAM'S  BROTHER  "... 

XXXVIII.  THE  ENGAGEMENT  OF  Two  . 

XXXIX.  A  LITTLE  PIECE  OF  PAPER  . 

XL.  WILLIAM  PAYS  A  VISIT 

XLI.  THE  CROOKED  MADE  STRAIGHT  . 

XLII.  THE  "  END  OF  THE  STORY  " 


MISS  BILLY 


CHAPTER   I 

BILLY    WRITES   A   LETTER 

BILLY  NEILSON  was  eighteen  years  old  when 
the  aunt,  who  had  brought  her  up  from  baby- 
hood, died.  Miss  Benton's  death  left  Billy 
quite  alone  in  the  world  —  alone,  and  pecul- 
iarly forlorn.  To  Mr.  James  Harding,  of 
Harding  &  Harding,  who  had  charge  of 
Billy's  not  inconsiderable  property,  the  girl 
poured  out  her  heart  in  all  its  loneliness  two 
days  after  the  funeral. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Harding,  there  isn't  any 
one  —  not  any  one  who  —  cares,"  she  choked. 

"  Tut,  tut,  my  child,  it's  not  so  bad  as  that, 
surely,"  remonstrated  the  old  man,  gently. 
"  Why,  I  — I  care." 

Billy  smiled  through  tear-wet  eyes. 
1 


2  Miss  Billy 

"  But  I  can't  live  with  you,"  she  said. 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,  either,"  retorted 
the  man.  "I'm  thinking  that  Letty  and  Ann 
would  like  to  have  you  with  us." 

The  girl  laughed  now  outright.  She  was 
thinking  of  Miss  Letty,  who  had  "  nerves," 
and  of  Miss  Ann,  who  had  a  ' l  heart  ' ' ;  and 
she  pictured  her  own  young,  breezy,  healthy 
self  attempting  to  conform  to  the  hushed  and 
shaded  thing  that  life  was,  within  Lawyer 
Harding 's  home. 

"  Thank  you,  but  I'm  sure  they  wouldn't," 
she  objected.  "  You  don't  know  how  noisy 
I  am." 

The  lawyer  stirred  restlessly  and  pon- 
dered. 

"  But,  surely,  my  dear,  isn't  there  some 
relative,  somewhere?  "  he  demanded. 
"  How  about  your  mother's  people?  ' 

Billy  shook  her  head.  Her  eyes  filled  again 
with  tears. 

"  There  was  only  Aunt  Ella,  ever,  that  I 
knew  anything  about.  She  and  mother  were 
the  only  children  there  were,  and  mother  died 
when  I  was  a  year  old,  you  know," 


Billy  Writes  a  Letter 


"  But  your  father's  people?  " 

"  It's  even  worse  there.  He  was  an  only 
child  and  an  orphan  when  mother  married 
him.  He  died  when  I  was  but  six  months  old. 
After  that  there  was  only  mother  and  Aunt 
Ella,  then  Aunt  Ella  alone ;  and  now  —  no 
one. ' ' 

"  And  you  know  nothing  of  your  father's 
people?  ' 

"  Nothing;   that  is  —  almost  nothing." 

"  Then  there  is  some  one?  ' 

Billy  smiled.  A  deeper  pink  showed  in  her 
cheeks. 

"  Why,  there's  one  —  a  man  —  but  he  isn't 
really  father's  people,  anyway.  But  I  —  I 
have  been  tempted  to  write  to  him." 

11  Who  is  he?  " 

"  The  one  I'm  named  for.  He  was  father *s 
boyhood  chum.  You  see  that's  why  I'm 
*  Billy  '  instead  of  being  a  proper  '  Susie,' 
or  '  Bessie,'  or  '  Sally  Jane.'  Father  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  name  his  baby  '  Will- 
iam '  after  his  chum,  and  when  I  came,  Aunt 
Ella  said,  he  was  quite  broken-hearted  until 
somebody  hit  upon  the  idea  of  naming  me 


4  Miss  Billy 

1  Billy.'  Then  he  was  content,  for  it  seems 
that  he  always  called  his  chum  *  Billy  '  any- 
how. And  so  — '  Billy  '  I  am  to-day. ' ' 

' '  Do  you  know  this  man  ?  ' ' 

11  No.  You  see  father  died,  and  mother 
and  Aunt  Ella  knew  him  only  very  slightly. 
Mother  knew  his  wife,  though,  Aunt  Ella 
said,  and  she  was  lovely." 

"  Hm  — ;  well,  we  might  look  them  up, 
perhaps.  You  know  his  address?  " 

"Oh,  yes  —  unless  he's  moved.  We've 
always  kept  that.  Aunt  Ella  used  to  say 
sometimes  that  she  was  going  to  write  to  him 
some  day  —  about  me,  you  know. ' ' 

"  What's  his  name?  " 

"  William  Henshaw.  He  lives  in  Bos- 
ton." 

Lawyer  Harding  snatched  off  his  glasses, 
and  leaned  forward  in  his  chair. 

"  William  Henshaw!  Not  the  Beacon 
Street  Henshaws!  "  he  cried. 

It  was  Billy's  turn  to  be  excited.  She,  too, 
leaned  forward  eagerly. 

"  Oh,  do  you  know  him?  That's  lovely! 
And  his  address  is  Beacon  Street!  T  know 


Billy  Writes  a  Letter 


because  I  saw  it  only  to-day.  You  see,  I  have 
been  tempted  to  write  him." 

"  Write  him?  Of  course  you'll  write 
him,"  cried  the  lawyer.  "  And  we  don't 
need  to  do  much  *  looking  up  '  there,  child. 
I've  known  the  family  for  years,  and  this 
William  was  a  college  mate  of  my  boy's. 
Nice  fellow,  too.  I've  heard  Ned  speak  of 
him.  There  were  three  sons,  William,  and 
two  others  much  younger  than  he.  I've  for- 
gotten their  names." 

"  Then  you  do  know  him!  I'm  so  glad," 
exclaimed  Billy.  * '  You  see,  he  never  seemed 
to  me  quite  real." 

11  I  know  about  him,"  corrected  the  law- 
yer, smilingly,  "  though  I'll  confess  I've 
rather  lost  track  of  him  lately.  Ned  will 
know.  I'll  ask  Ned.  Now  go  home,  my  dear, 
and  dry  those  pretty  eyes  of  yours.  Or,  bet- 
ter still,  come  home  with  me  to  tea.  I  —  I  '11 
telephone  up  to  the  house."  And  he  rose 
stiffly  and  went  into  the  inner  office. 

Some  minutes  passed  before  he  came  back, 
red  of  face,  and  plainly  distressed. 

"  My  dear  child,  I  — I'm  sorry,  but  — 


6  Miss  Billy 

I'll  have  to  take  back  that  invitation,"  he 
blurted  out  miserably.  ' '  My  sisters  are  - 
are  not  well  this  afternoon.  Ann  has  been 
having  a  turn  with  her  heart  —  you  know 
Ann's  heart  is  —  is  bad ;  and  Letty  —  Letty 
is  always  nervous  at  such  times  —  very  nerv- 
ous. Er  —  I'm  so  sorry!  But  you'll  —  ex- 
cuse it?  " 

' '  Indeed  I  will, ' '  smiled  Billy, ' '  and  thank 
you  just  the  same ;  only  '  -  her  eyes  twin- 
kled mischievously  —  "  you  don't  mind  if  I 
do  say  that  it  is  lucky  that  we  hadn  't  gone  on 
planning  to  have  me  live  with  them,  Mr. 
Harding!  " 

' '  Eh  f  Well  —  er,  I  think  your  plan  about 
the  Henshaws  is  very  good,"  he  interposed 
hurriedly.  "  I'll  speak  to  Ned  —  I'll  speak 
to  Ned,"  he  finished,  as  he  ceremoniously 
bowed  the  girl  from  the  office. 

James  Harding  kept  his  word,  and  spoke 
to  his  son  that  night;  but  there  was  little, 
after  all,  that  Ned  could  tell  him.  Yes,  Tie 
remembered  Billy  Henshaw  well,  but  he  had 
not  heard  of  him  for  years,  since  Henshaw 's 
marriage,  in  fact.  He  must  be  forty  years 


Billy  Writes  a  Letter 


old,  Ned  said;  but  he  was  a  fine  fellow,  an 
exceptionally  fine  fellow,  and  would  be  sure 
to  deal  kindly  and  wisely  by  his  little  orphan 
namesake ;  of  that  Ned  was  very  sure. 

"  That's  good.  I'll  write  him,"  declared 
Mr.  James  Harding.  "  I'll  write  him  to- 
morrow. ' ' 

He  did  write  —  but  not  so  soon  as  Billy 
wrote;  for  even  as  he  spoke,  Billy,  in  her 
lonely  little  room  at  the  other  end  of  the 
town,  was  laying  bare  all  her  homesickness 
in  four  long  pages  to  "  Dear  Uncle  Will- 
iam." 


CHAPTER   II 

"  THE   STRATA  " 

BERTRAM  HENSHAW  called  the  Beacon 
Street  home  "  The  Strata."  This  annoyed 
Cyril,  and  even  William,  not  a  little ;  though 
they  reflected  that,  after  all,  it  was  "  only 
Bertram."  For  the  whole  of  Bertram's 
twenty-four  years  of  life  it  had  been  like  this 
—  "  It's  only  Bertram,"  had  heen  at  once 
the  curse  and  the  salvation  of  his  existence. 

In  this  particular  case,  however,  Ber- 
tram's vagary  of  fancy  had  some  excuse. 
The  Beacon  Street  house,  the  home  of  the 
three  brothers,  was  a  "  Strata." 

"  You  see,  it's  like  this,"  Bertram  would 
explain  airily  to  some  new  acquaintance  who 
expressed  surprise  at  the  name ;  ' '  if  I  could 
slice  off  the  front  of  the  house  like  a  loaf  of 
cake,  you'd  understand  it  better.  But  just 
suppose  that  old  Bunker  Hill  should  sud- 
denly spout  fire  and  brimstone  and  bury  us 

8 


"  The  Strata  "  9 

under  tons  of  ashes  —  only  fancy  the  condi- 
tion of  rnind  of  those  future  archaeologists 
when  they  struck  our  house  after  their 
months  of  digging! 

"  What  would  they  find!  Listen.  First: 
stratum  number  one,  the  top  floor;  that's 
Cyril's,  you  know.  They'd  note  the  bare 
floors,  the  sparse  but  heavy  furniture,  the 
piano,  the  violin,  the  flute,  the  book-lined 
walls,  and  the  absence  of  every  sort  of  cur- 
tain, cushion,  or  knickknack.  *  Here  lived  a 
plain  man,'  they'd  say;  '  a  scholar,  a  musi- 
cian, stern,  unloved  and  unloving;  a  monk.' 

"  And  what  next?  They'd  strike  Will- 
iam's stratum  next,  the  third  floor.  Imagine 
it!  You  know  William  as  a  State  Street 
broker,  well-off,  a  widower,  tall,  angular, 
slow  of  speech,  a  little  bald,  very  much  near- 
sighted, and  the  owner  of  the  kindest  heart 
in  the  world.  But  really  to  know  William, 
you  must  know  his  rooms.  William  collects 
things.  He  has  always  collected  things  — 
and  he's  saved  every  one  of  them.  There's 
a  tradition  that  at  the  age  of  one  year  he 
crept  into  the  house  with  four  small  round 


10  Miss  Billy 

white  stones.  Anyhow,  if  he  did,  he's  got 
them  now.  Best  assured  of  that  —  and  he 's 
forty  this  year.  Miniatures,  carved  ivories, 
bugs,  moths,  porcelains,  jades,  stamps,  post- 
cards, spoons,  baggage  tags,  theatre  pro- 
grams, playing-cards  —  there  isn't  anything 
that  he  doesn't  collect.  He's  on  teapots,  now. 
Imagine  it  —  William  and  teapots!  And 
they're  all  there  in  his  rooms  —  one  glorious 
mass  of  confusion.  Just  fancy  those  archae- 
ologists trying  to  make  their  *  monk  '  live 
there ! 

"  But  when  they  reach  me,  my  stratum, 
they'll  have  a  worse  time  yet.  You  see,  7  like 
cushions  and  comfort,  and  I  have  them  every- 
where. And  I  like  —  well,  I  like  lots  of 
things.  My  rooms  don't  belong  to  that  monk, 
not  a  little  bit.  And  so  you  see,"  Bertram 
would  finish  merrily,  "  that's  why  I  call  it 
all  '  The  Strata.'  " 

And  "  The  Strata  "  it  was  to  all  the  Hen- 
shaws'  friends,  and  even  to  William  and 
Cyril  themselves,  in  spite  of  their  objection 
to  the  term. 

From  babyhood   the  Henshaw  boys  had 


"  The  Strata"  11 

lived  in  the  handsome,  roomy  house,  facing 
the  Public  Garden.  It  had  been  their 
father's  boyhood  home,  as  well,  and  he  and 
his  wife  had  died  there,  soon  after  Kate,  the 
only  daughter,  had  married.  At  the  age  of 
twenty-two,  "William  Henshaw,  the  eldest 
son,  had  brought  his  bride  to  the  house,  and 
together  they  had  striven  to  make  a  home 
for  the  two  younger  orphan  boys,  Cyril, 
twelve,  and  Bertram,  six.  But  Mrs.  William, 
after  a  short  five  years  of  married  life,  had 
died;  and  since  then,  the  house  had  known 
almost  nothing  of  a  woman's  touch  or  care. 
Little  by  little  as  the  years  passed,  the 
house  and  its  inmates  had  fallen  into  what 
had  given  Bertram  his  excuse  for  the  name. 
Cyril,  thirty  years  old  now,  dignified,  re- 
served, averse  to  cats,  dogs,  women,  and  con- 
fusion, had  early  taken  himself  and  his  music 
to  the  peace  and  exclusiveness  of  the  fourth 
floor.  Below  him,  William  had  long  discour- 
aged any  meddling  with  his  precious  chaos 
of  possessions,  and  had  finally  come  to  spend 
nearly  all  his  spare  time  among  them.  This 
left  Bertram  to  undisputed  ownership  of  the 


12  Miss  Billy 

second  floor,  and  right  royally  did  he  hold 
sway  there  with  his  paints  and  brushes  and 
easels,  his  old  armor,  rich  hangings,  rugs, 
and  cushions,  and  everywhere  his  specialty 
—  his  "  Face  of  a  Girl."  From  canvas, 
plaque,  and  panel  they  looked  out  —  those 
girlish  faces :  winsome,  wilful,  pert,  demure, 
merry,  sad,  beautiful,  even  almost  ugly  — • 
they  were  all  there ;  and  they  were  growing 
famous,  too.  The  world  of  art  was  begin- 
ning to  take  notice,  and  to  adjust  its  specta- 
cles for  a  more  critical  glance.  This  "  Face 
of  a  Girl  ' '  by  Henshaw  bade  fair  to  be  worth 
while. 

Below  Bertram's  cheery  second  floor  were 
the  dim  old  library  and  drawing-rooms,  si- 
lent, stately,  and  almost  never  used ;  and  be- 
low them  were  the  dining-room  and  the 
kitchen.  Here  ruled  Dong  Ling,  the  Chinese 
cook,  and  Pete. 

Pete  was  —  indeed,  it  is  hard  telling  what 
Pete  was.  He  said  he  was  the  butler;  and 
he  looked  the  part  when  he  answered  the  bell 
at  the  great  front  door.  But  at  other  times, 
when  he  swept  a  room,  or  dusted  Master 


"  The  Strata  "  13 

William's  curios,  he  looked  —  like  nothing 
so  much  as  what  he  was:  a  fussy,  faithful 
old  man,  who  expected  to  die  in  the  service 
he  had  entered  fifty  years  before  as  a  lad. 

Thus  in  all  the  Beacon  Street  house,  there 
had  not  for  years  been  the  touch  of  a  wom- 
an's hand.  Even  Kate,  the  married  sister, 
had  long  since  given  up  trying  to  instruct 
Dong  Ling  or  to  chide  Pete,  though  she  still 
walked  across  the  Garden  from  her  Com- 
monwealth Avenue  home  and  tripped  up  the 
stairs  to  call  in  turn  upon  her  brothers, 
Bertram,  William,  and  Cyril. 


CHAPTER   in 

THE   STRATA WHEN   THE   LETTER   COMES 

IT  was  on  the  six  o'clock  delivery  that 
William  Henshaw  received  the  letter  from 
his  namesake,  Billy.  To  say  the  least,  the 
letter  was  a  great  shock  to  him.  He  had  not 
quite  forgotten  Billy's  father,  who  had  died 
so  long  ago,  it  is  true,  but  he  had  forgotten 
Billy,  entirely.  Even  as  he  looked  at  the  dis- 
concerting epistle  with  its  round,  neatly 
formed  letters,  he  had  great  difficulty  in  fer- 
reting out  the  particular  niche  in  his  memory 
which  contained  the  fact  that  Walter  Neil  son 
had  had  a  child,  and  had  named  it  for  him. 

And  this  child,  this  "  Billy,"  this  unknown 
progeny  of  an  all  but  forgotten  boyhood 
friend,  was  asking  a  home,  and  with  him! 
Impossible!  And  William  Henshaw  peered 
at  the  letter  as  if,  at  this  second  reading,  its 
message  could  not  be  so  monstrous. 

"  Well,  old  man,  what's  up?  "     It  was 

14 


When  the  Letter  Comes  15 

Bertram's  amazed  voice  from  the  hall  door- 
way; and  indeed,  William  Henshaw,  red- 
faced  and  plainly  trembling,  seated  on  the 
lowest  step  of  the  stairway,  and  gazing,  wild- 
eyed,  at  the  letter  in  his  hand,  was  somewhat 
of  an  amazing  sight.  "  What  is  up?  " 

"  What's  up!  "  groaned  William,  starting 
to  his  feet,  and  waving  the  letter  frantically 
in  the  air.  ' '  What 's  up !  Young  man,  do 
you  want  us  to  take  in  a  child  to  board  1  — 
a  child?  "  he  repeated  in  slow  horror. 

"  Well,  hardly,"  laughed  the  other.  "  Er, 
perhaps  Cyril  might  like  it,  though;  eh?  " 

"  Come,  come,  Bertram,  be  sensible  for 
once,"  pleaded  his  brother,  nervously. 
"  This  is  serious,  really  serious,  I  tell  you!  " 

"  What  is  serious?  "  demanded  Cyril, 
coming  down  the  stairway.  "  Can't  it  wait? 
Pete  has  already  sounded  the  gong  twice  for 
dinner. ' ' 

William  made  a  despairing  gesture. 

"  Well,  come,"  he  groaned.  "  I'll  tell  you 
at  the  table.  ...  It  seems  I've  got  a  name- 
sake," he  resumed  in  a  shaking  voice,  a  few 
moments  later;  "  Walter  Neil  son's  child." 


16  Miss  Billy 

"  And  who's  Walter  Neilson?  "  asked 
Bertram. 

"  A  boyhood  friend.  You  wouldn't  re- 
member him.  This  letter  is  from  his  child. ' ' 

"  Well,  let's  hear  it.  Go  ahead.  I  fancy 
we  can  stand  the  —  letter;  eh,  Cyril?  " 

Cyril  frowned.  Cyril  did  not  know,  per- 
haps, how  often  he  frowned  —  at  Bertram. 

The  eldest  brother  wet  his  lips.  His  hand 
shook  as  he  picked  up  the  letter. 

"  It  —  it's  so  absurd,"  he  muttered.  Then 
he  cleared  his  throat  and  read  the  letter 
aloud. 

"  DEAR  UNCLE  WILLIAM  :  Do  you  mind  rny 
calling  you  that!  You  see  I  want  some  one, 
and  there  isn't  any  one  now.  You  are  the 
nearest  I've  got.  Maybe  you've  forgotten, 
but  I'm  named  for  you.  Walter  Neilson  was 
my  father,  you  know.  My  Aunt  Ella  has  just 
died. 

"  Would  you  mind  very  much  if  I  came  to 
live  with  you?  That  is,  between  times  —  I'm 
going  to  college,  of  course,  and  after  that  I'm 
going  to  be  —  well,  I  haven't  decided  that 


When  the  Letter  Comes  17 

part  yet.  I  think  I'll  consult  you.  You  may 
have  some  preference,  you  know.  You  can 
be  thinking  it  up  until  I  come. 

11  There!  Maybe  I  ought  not  to  have  said 
that,  for  perhaps  you  won't  want  me  to  come. 
I  am  noisy,  I'll  own,  but  not  so  I  think  you'll 
mind  it  much  unless  some  of  you  have 
*  nerves  '  or  a  '  heart.'  You  see,  Miss  Letty 
and  Miss  Ann  —  they're  Mr.  Harding 's  sis- 
ters, and  Mr.  Harding  is  our  lawyer,  and  he 
will  write  to  you.  Well,  where  was  I?  Oh, 
I  know  —  on  Miss  Letty 's  nerves.  And,  say, 
do  you'  know,  that  is  where  I  do  get  —  on 
Miss  Letty 's  nerves.  I  do,  truly.  You  see, 
Mr.  Harding  very  kindly  suggested  that  I 
live  with  them,  but,  mercy!  Miss  Letty 's 
nerves  won't  let  you  walk  except  on  tiptoe, 
and  Miss  Ann's  heart  won't  let  you  speak 
except  in  whispers.  All  the  chairs  and  tables 
have  worn  little  sockets  in  the  carpets,  and 
it's  a  crime  to  move  them.  There  isn't  a 
window-shade  in  the  house  that  isn't  pulled 
down  exactly  to  the  middle  sash,  except 
where  the  sun  shines,  and  those  are  pulled 
way  down.  Imagine  me  and  Spunk  living- 


18  Miss  Billy 

there!  Oh,  by  the  way,  you  don't  mind  my 
bringing  Spunk,  do  you?  I  hope  you  don't, 
for  I  couldn't  live  without  Spunk,  and  he 
couldn't  live  without  me. 

11  Please  let  me  hear  from  you  very  soon. 
I  don't  mind  if  you  telegraph;  and  just 
*  come  '  would  be  all  you'd  have  to  say.  Then 
I'd  get  ready  right  away  and  let  you  know 
what  train  to  meet  me  on.  And,  oh,  say  — 
if  you'll  wear  a  pink  in  your  buttonhole  I 
will,  too.  Then  we'll  know  each  other.  My 
address  is  just  l  Hampden  Falls.' 

"  Your  awfully  homesick  namesake, 

"  BILLY  HENSHAW  NEILSON." 

For  one  long  minute  there  was  a  blank  si- 
lence about  the  Henshaw  dinner-table;  then 
the  eldest  brother,  looking  anxiously  from 
one  man  to  the  other,  stammered : 

11  W-welH  " 

"  Great  Scott!  "  breathed  Bertram. 

Cyril  said  nothing,  but  his  lips  were  white 
with  their  tense  pressure  against  each  other. 

There  was  another  pause,  and  again  Will- 
iam broke  it  anxiously. 


When  the  Letter  Comes  19 

"  Boys,  this  isn't  helping  me  out  any! 
"What's  to  be  done?  " 

"  '  Done  '!  "  flamed  Cyril.  "  Surely,  you 
aren't  thinking  for  a  moment  of  letting  that 
child  come  here,  William !  ' ' 

Bertram  chuckled. 

"  He  would  liven  things  up,  Cyril; 
wouldn't  he?  Such  nice  smooth  floors  you've 
got  up-stairs  to  trundle  little  tin  carts 
across !  ' ' 

"  Tin  nonsense!  "  retorted  Cyril.  "  Don't 
be  silly,  Bertram.  That  letter  wasn't  writ- 
ten by  a  baby.  He'd  be  much  more  likely  to 
make  himself  at  home  with  your  paint  box, 
or  with  some  of  William's  junk." 

11  Oh,  I  say,"  expostulated  William, 
"  we'll  have  to  keep  him  out  of  those  things, 
you  know. ' ' 

Cyril  pushed  back  his  chair  from  the 
table. 

"  '  We'll  have  to  keep  him  out  ' !  William, 
you  can't  be  in  earnest!  You  aren't  going 
to  let  that  boy  come  here,"  he  cried. 

"  But  what  can  I  do?  "  faltered  the 
man. 


20  Miss  Billy 

"  Do?  Say  '  no,'  of  course.  As  if  we 
wanted  a  boy  to  bring  up!  ' 

11  But  I  must  do  something.  I  —  I'm  all 
he's  got.  He  says  so." 

'  *  Good  heavens !  Well,  send  him  to  board- 
ing-school, then,  or  to  the  penitentiary ;  any- 
where but  here!  " 

"  Shucks!  Let  the  kid  come,"  laughed 
Bertram.  "  Poor  little  homesick  devil! 
What's  the  use?  I'll  take  him  in.  How  old 
is  he,  anyhow?  " 

William  frowned,  and  mused  aloud  slowly. 

11  Why,  I  don't  know.  He  must  be  —  er  — 
why,  boys,  he's  no  child,"  broke  off  the  man 
suddenly.  "  Walter  himself  died  seventeen 
or  eighteen  years  ago,  not  more  than  a  year 
or  two  after  he  was  married.  That  child 
must  be  somewhere  around  eighteen  years 
old!  " 

"  And  only  think  how  Cyril  was  worrying 
about  those  tin  carts,"  laughed  Bertram. 
"Never  mind  —  eight  or  eighteen  —  let  him 
come.  If  he's  that  age,  he  won't  bother 
much. ' ' 

1 '  And  this  —  er  — '  Spunk  ' ;  do  you  take 


When  the  Letter  Comes          21 

him,  too?  But  probably  he  doesn't  bother, 
either,"  murmured  Cyril,  with  smooth  sar- 
casm. 

"  Gorry!  I  forgot  Spunk,"  acknowledged 
Bertram.  "  Say,  what  in  time  is  Spunk,  do 
you  suppose?  ' 

11  Dog,  maybe,"  suggested  William. 

11  Well,  whatever  he  is,  you  will  kindly 
keep  Spunk  down-stairs,"  said  Cyril  with 
decision.  "  The  boy,  I  suppose  I  shall  have 
to  endure ;  but  the  dog  — !  ' 

"  Hm-rn;  well,  judging  by  his  name," 
murmured  Bertram,  apologetically,  "  it  may 
be  just  possible  that  Spunk  won't  be  easily 
controlled.  But  maybe  he  isn't  a  dog,  any- 
how. He  —  er  —  sounds  something  like  a 
parrot  to  me." 

Cyril  rose  to  his  feet  abruptly.  He  had 
eaten  almost  no  dinner. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said  coldly.  "  But  please 
remember  that  I  hold  you  responsible,  Ber- 
tram. Whether  it 's  a  dog,  or  a  parrot,  or  — 
or  a  monkey,  I  shall  expect  you  to  keep  Spunk 
down-stairs.  This  adopting  into  the  family 
an  unknown  boy  seems  to  me  very  absurd 


22  Miss  Billy 

from  beginning  to  end.  But  if  you  and  Will- 
iam will  have  it  so,  of  course  I've  nothing  to 
say.  Fortunately  my  rooms  are  at  the  top 
of  the  house,"  he  finished,  as  he  turned  and 
left  the  dining-room. 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  The 
brows  of  the  younger  man  were  uplifted  quiz- 
zically. 

''I'm  afraid  Cyril  is  bothered,"  mur- 
mured William  then,  in  a  troubled  voice. 

Bertram's  face  changed.  Stern  lines  came 
to  his  boyish  mouth. 

"  He  is  always  bothered  —  with  anything, 
lately." 

The  elder  man  sighed. 

' '  I  know,  but  with  his  talent  —  ' : 

"  '  Talent '!  Great  Scott!  "  cut  in  Ber- 
tram. ' '  Half  the  world  has  talent  of  one  sort 
or  another ;  but  that  doesn't  necessarily  make 
them  unable  to  live  with  any  one  else! 
Really,  Will,  it's  becoming  serious  —  about 
Cyril.  He's  getting  to  be,  for  all  the  world, 
like  those  finicky  old  maids  that  that  young 
namesake  of  yours  wrote  about.  He'll  make 
us  whisper  and.  walk  oil  tiptoe  yet  I  " 


When  the  Letter  Gomes  23 

The  other  smiled. 

"  Don't  you  worry.  You  aren't  in  any 
danger  of  being  kept  too  quiet,  young  man." 

"  No  thanks  to  Cyril,  then,"  retorted  Ber- 
tram. "  Anyhow,  that's  one  reason  why  I 
was  for  taking  the  kid  —  to  mellow  up  Cyril. 
He  needs  it  all  right. ' ' 

1 '  But  t  had  to  take  him,  Bert, ' '  argued  the 
elder  brother,  his  face  growing  anxious  again. 
"  But  Heaven  only  knows  what  I'm  going  to 
do  with  him  when  I  get  him.  What  shall  I 
say  to  him,  anyway?  How  shall  I  write?  I 
don't  know  how  to  get  up  a  letter  of  that 
sort!  " 

"  Why  not  take  him  at  his  word  and  tele- 
graph? I  fancy  you  won't  have  to  say 
1  come  '  but  once  before  you  see  him.  He 
doesn't  seem  to  be  a  bashful  youth." 

"  Hm-m;  I  might  do  that,"  acquiesced 
William,  slowly.  "  But  wasn't  there  some- 
body —  a  lawyer  —  going  to  write  to  me  ?  ' 
he  finished,  consulting  the  letter  by  his  plate. 
"  Yes,"  he  added,  after  a  moment,  "  a  Mr. 
Harding.  Wonder  if  he's  any  relation  to 
Ned  Harding.  I  used  to  know  Ned  at  Har- 


24  Miss  Billy 

vard,  and  seems  as  if  he  carne  from  Hampden 
Falls.  We'll  soon  see,  at  all  events.  Maybe 
I'll  hear  to-morrow." 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  nodded  Bertram, 
as  he  rose  from  the  table.  "  Anyhow,  I 
wouldn't  do  anything  till  I  did  hear." 


CHAPTER   IV 

BILLY   SENDS   A   TELEGRAM 

JAMES  HARDING  's  letter  very  promptly  fol- 
lowed Billy's,  though  it  was  not  like  Billy's 
at  all.  It  told  something  of  Billy's  property, 
and  mentioned  that,  according  to  Mrs.  Neil- 
son's  will,  Billy  would  not  come  into  control 
of  her  fortune  until  the  age  of  twenty-one 
years  was  reached.  It  dwelt  at  some  length 
upon  the  fact  of  Billy's  loneliness  in  the 
world,  and  expressed  the  hope  that  her 
father's  friend  could  find  it  in  his  heart  to 
welcome  the  orphan  into  his  home.  It  men- 
tioned Ned,  and  the  old  college  friendship, 
and  it  closed  by  saying  that  the  writer,  James 
Harding,  was  glad  to  renew  his  acquaintance 
with  the  good  old  Henshaw  family  that  he 
had  known  long  years  ago ;  and  that  he  hoped 
soon  to  hear  from  William  Henshaw  himself. 

It  was  a  good  letter  —  but  it  was  not  well 
written.  James  Harding 's  handwriting  was 

25 


26  Miss  Billy 

not  distinguished  for  its  legibility,  and  his 
correspondents  rejoiced  that  the  most  of  his 
letters  were  dictated  to  his  stenographer.  In 
this  case,  however,  he  had  elected  to  use  the 
more  personal  pen;  and  it  was  because  of 
this  that  William  Henshaw,  even  after  read- 
ing the  letter,  was  still  unaware  of  his  mis- 
take in  supposing  his  namesake,  Billy,  to  be 
a  boy. 

In  the  main  the  lawyer  had  referred  to 
Billy  by  name,  or  as  "  the  orphan,"  or  as 
that  "  poor,  lonely  child."  And  whenever 
the  more  distinctive  feminine  "  her  ':  or 
"  herself  "  had  occurred,  the  carelessly 
formed  letters  had  made  them  so  much  like 
"  his  "  and  "  himself  "  that  they  carried  no 
hint  of  the  truth  to  a  man  who  had  not  the 
slightest  reason  for  thinking  himself  in  the 
wrong.  It  was  therefore  still  for  the  "  boy," 
Billy,  that  William  Henshaw  at  once  set 
about  making  a  place  in  the  home. 

First  he  telegraphed  the  single  word 
"  Come  "to  Billy. 

"I'll  set  the  poor  lad's  heart  at  rest,"  he 
said  to  Bertram.  "  I  shall  answer  Hoarding's 


Billy  Sends  a  Telegram          27 

letter  more  at  length,  of  course.  Naturally 
he  wants  to  know  something  about  me  now  be- 
fore he  sends  Billy  along;  but  there  is  no 
need  for  the  boy  to  wait  before  he  knows  that 
I'll  take  him.  Of  course  he  won't  come  yet, 
till  Harding  hears  from  me." 

It  was  just  here,  however,  that  William 
Henshaw  met  with  a  surprise,  for  within 
twenty-four  hours  came  Billy's  answer,  and 
by  telegraph. 

"  I'm  coming  to-morrow.  Train  due  at 
five  P.  M. 

"  BILLY." 

William  Henshaw  did  not  know  that  in 
Hampden  Falls  Billy's  trunk  had  been 
packed  for  days.  Billy  was  desperate.  The 
house,  even  with  the  maid,  and  with  the  obli- 
ging neighbor  and  his  wife  who  stayed  there 
nights,  was  to  Billy  nothing  but  a  dismal 
tomb.  Lawyer  Harding  had  fallen  suddenly 
ill;  she  could  not  even  tell  him  that  the 
blessed  telegram  "  Come  '  had  arrived. 
Hence  Billy,  lonely,  impulsive,  and  always 


28  Miss  Billy 

used  to  pleasing  herself,  had  taken  matters 
in  hand  with  a  confident  grasp,  and  had  de- 
termined to  wait  no  longer. 

That  it  was  a  fearsomely  unknown  future 
to  which  she  was  so  jauntily  pledging  herself 
did  not  trouble  the  girl  in  the  least.  Billy 
was  romantic.  To  sally  gaily  forth  with  a 
pink  in  the  buttonhole  of  her  coat  to  find  her 
father 's  friend  who  was  a  ' l  Billy  '  too, 
seemed  to  Billy  Neilson  not  only  delightful, 
but  eminently  sensible,  and  an  excellent  way 
out of  her  present  homesick  loneliness.  So 
she  bought  the  pink  and  her  ticket,  and  im- 
patiently awaited  the  time  to  start. 

To  the  Beacon  Street  house,  Billy's  cheer- 
ful telegram  brought  the  direst  consternation. 
Even  Kate  was  hastily  summoned  to  the 
family  conclave  that  immediately  resulted. 

"  There's  nothing  —  simply  nothing  that  I 
can  do, ' '  she  declared  irritably,  when  she  had 
heard  the  story.  "  Surely,  you  don't  expect 
me  to  take  the  boy!  " 

"  No,  no,  of  course  not,"  sighe.d  William. 
"  But  you  see,  I  supposed  I'd  have  time  to  — 
to  get  used  to  things,  and  to  make  arrange- 


Billy  Sends  a  Telegram 


ments  ;  and  this  is  so  —  so  sudden  !  I  hadn't 
even  answered  Harding  's  letter  until  to-day; 
and  he  liasn  't  got  that  —  much  less  replied  to 
it." 

"  But  what  could  you  expect  after  sending 
that  idiotic  telegram?  "  demanded  the  lady. 
11  '  Come/  indeed!  " 

"  But  that's  what  Billy  told  me  to  do." 

"  What  if  it  was!  Just  because  a  foolish 
eighteen-year-old  boy  tells  you  to  do  some- 
thing, must  you,  a  supposedly  sensible  forty- 
year-old  man  obey  f  '  ' 

"  I  think  it  tickled  Will's  romantic  streak," 
laughed  Bertram.  "  It  seemed  so  sort  of 
alluring  to  send  that  one  word  '  Come  '  out 
into  space,  and  watch  what  happened." 

"  Well,  he's  found  out,  certainly,"  ob- 
served Cyril,  with  grim  satisfaction. 

"  Oh,  no;  it  hasn't  happened  yet,"  cor- 
rected Bertram,  cheerfully.  "  It's  just  going 
to  happen.  William's  got  to  put  on  the  pink 
first,  you  know.  That's  the  talisman." 

William  reddened. 

"  Bertram,  don't  be  foolish.  .  I  sha'n't 
wear  any  pink.  You  must  know  that.  " 


30  Miss  Billy 

"  How '11  you  find  him,  then?  " 

"  Why,  he'll  have  one  on;  that's  enough," 
settled  William. 

"  Hm-m;  maybe.  Then  he'll  have  Spunk, 
too,"  murmured  Bertram,  mischievously. 

"  Spunk!  "  cried  Kate. 

11  Yes.  He  wrote  that  he  hoped  we 
wouldn't  mind  his  bringing  Spunk  with  him." 

"  Who's  Spunk?  " 

"  We  don't  know."  Bertram's  lips 
twitched. 

"  You  don't  know!    What  do  you  mean?  ' 

"  Well,  Will  thinks  it's  a  dog,  and  I  believe 
Cyril  is  anticipating  a  monkey.  I  myself  am 
backing  it  for  a  parrot." 

"  Boys,  what  have  you  done!  '  groaned 
Kate,  falling  back  in  her  chair.  ' '  What  have 
you  done!  " 

To  William  her  words  were  like  an  electric 
shock  stirring  him  to  instant  action.  He 
sprang  abruptly  to  his  feet. 

"  Well,  whatever  we've  done,  we've  done 
it,"  he  declared  sternly;  "  and  now  we  must 
do  the  rest  —  and  do  it  well,  too.  He's  the 
son  of  my  boyhood's  dearest  friend,  and  he 


Billy  Sends  a  Telegram  31 

shall  be  made  welcome.  Now  to  business! 
Bertram,  you  said  you'd  take  him  in.  Did 
you  mean  it?  ' 

Bertram  sobered  instantly,  and  came  erect 
in  his  chair.  William  did  not  often  speak 
like  this ;  but  when  he  did  — 

"  Yes,  Will.  He  shall  have  the  little  bed- 
room at  the  end  of  the  hall.  I  never  used  the 
room  much,  anyhow,  and  what  few  duds  I 
have  there  shall  be  cleared  out  to-morrow.'* 

"  Good!  Now  there  are  some  other  little 
details  to  arrange,  then  I'll  go  down-stairs 
and  tell  Pete  and  Dong  Ling.  And,  please  to 
understand,  we  're  going  to  make  this  lad  wel- 
come—  welcome,  I  say!  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Bertram.  Neither  Kate 
nor  Cyril  spoke. 


CHAPTER   V 

GETTING    HEADY   FOB   BILLY 

THE  Henshaw  household  was  early  astir  on 
the  day  of  Billy's  expected  arrival,  and 
preparations  for  the  guest's  comfort  were 
well  under  way  before  breakfast.  The  center 
of  activity  was  in  the  little  room  at  the  end 
of  the  hall  on  the  second  floor;  though,  as 
Bertram  said,  the  whole  Strata  felt  the  ' '  up- 
heaval. ' ' 

By  breakfast  time  Bertram  with  the 
avowed  intention  of  giving  "  the  little  chap 
half  a  show,"  had  the  room  cleared  for 
action;  and  after  that  the  whole  house  was 
called  upon  for  contributions  toward  the 
room's  adornment.  And  most  generously  did 
most  of  the  house  respond.  Even  Dong  Ling 
slippered  up-stairs  and  presented  a  weird 
Chinese  banner  which  he  said  he  was  "  velly 
much  glad  ' '  to  give.  As  to  Pete  —  Pete  was 
in  his  element.  Pete  loved  boys.  Had  he  not 


Getting  Ready  for  Billy          33 

served  them  nearly  all  Iris  life !  Incidentally 
it  may  be  mentioned  that  he  did  not  care  for 
girls. 

Only  Cyril  held  himself  aloof.  But  that  he 
was  not  oblivious  of  the  proceedings  below 
him  was  evidenced  by  the  somber  bass  that 
floated  down  from  his  piano  strings.  Cyril 
always  played  according  to  the  mood  that  was 
on  him;  and  when  Bertram  heard  this  morn- 
ing the  rhythmic  beats  of  mournfulness,  he 
chuckled  and  said  to  William: 

"  That's  Chopin's  Funeral  March.  Evi- 
dently Cy  thinks  this  is  the  death  knell 
to  all  his  hopes  of  future  peace  and  happi- 
ness." 

"  Dear  me!  I  wish  Cyril  would  take  some 
interest, ' '  grieved  William. 

"  Oh,  he  takes  interest  all  right,"  laughed 
Bertram,  meaningly.  "  He  takes  inter- 
est! " 

"  I  know,  but  —  Bertram,"  broke  off  the 
elder  man,  anxiously,  from  his  perch  on  the 
stepladder,  "  would  you  put  the  rifle  over 
this  window,  or  the  fishing-rod?  ' 

"  Why,  I  don't  think  it  makes  much  dif- 


34  Miss  Billy 

ference,  so  long  as  they're  somewhere,"  an- 
swered Bertram.  "  And  there  are  these  In- 
dian clubs  and  the  swords  to  be  disposed  of, 
you  know." 

"  Yes;  and  it's  going  to  look  fine;  don't 
you  think!  "  exulted  William.  "  And  you 
know  for  the  wall-space  between  the  windows 
I'm  going  to  bring  down  that  case  of  mine,  of 
spiders." 

Bertram  raised  his  hands  in  mock  sur- 
prise. 

"Here  —  down  here!  You're  going  to 
trust  any  of  those  precious  treasures  of 
yours  down  here !  ' ' 

William  frowned. 

"  Nonsense,  Bertram,  don't  be  silly! 
They'll  be  safe  enough.  Besides,  they're  old, 
anyhow.  I  was  on  spiders  years  ago  —  when 
I  was  Billy's  age,  in  fact.  I  thought  he'd  like 
them  here.  You  know  boys  always  like  such 
things. ' ' 

"  Oh,  'twasn't  Billy  I  was  worrying 
about,"  retorted  Bertram.  "  It  was  you  — 
and  the  spiders." 

' '  Not  much  you  worry  about  me  —  or  any- 


Getting  Ready  for  Billy          35 

thing  else, ' '  replied  William,  good-humoredly. 
"  There!  how  does  that  look?  "  he  finished, 
as  he  carefully  picked  his  way  down  the  step- 
ladder. 

* '  Fine !  —  er  —  only  rather  warlike, 
maybe,  with  the  guns  and  that  riotous  con- 
fusion of  knives  and  scimiters  over  the 
chiffonier.  But  then,  maybe  you're  intend- 
ing Billy  for  a  soldier;  eh?  " 

11  Do  you  know?  I  am  getting  interested 
in  that  boy,"  beamed  William,  with  some  ex- 
citement. ( '  What  kind  of  things  do  you  sup- 
pose he  does  like?  ' 

"  There's  no  telling.  Maybe  he's  a  sissy 
chap,  and  will  howl  at  your  guns  and  spiders. 
Perhaps  he'll  prefer  autumn  leaves  and 
worsted  mottoes  for  decoration." 

"  Not  much  he  will,"  contested  the  other. 
"  No  son  of  Walter  Neilson's  could  be  a  sissy. 
Neilson  was  the  best  half-back  in  ten  years 
at  Harvard,  and  he  was  always  in  for 
everything  going  that  was  worth  while. 
1  Autumn  leaves  and  worsted  mottoes  '  in- 
deed! Bah!  " 

"  All  right;  but  there's  still  a  dark  horse 


36  Miss  Billy 

in  the  case,  you  know.    We  mustn't  forget  — 
Spunk." 

The  elder  man  stirred  uneasily. 

"  Bert,  what  do  you  suppose  that  creature 
is?  You  don't  think  Cyril  can  be  right,  and 
that  it's  a  —  monkey?  " 

"  '  You  never  can  tell,'  "  quoted  Bertram, 
merrily.  "  Of  course  there  are  other  things. 
If  it  were  you,  now,  we  'd  only  have  to  hunt  up 
the  special  thing  you  happened  to  be  collect- 
ing at  the  time,  and  that  would  be  it :  a  snake, 
a  lizard,  a  toad,  or  maybe  a  butterfly.  You 
know  you  were  always  lugging  those  things 
home  when  you  were  his  age." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  sighed  William.  "  But  I 
can't  think  it's  anything  like  that,"  he 
finished,  as  he  turned  away. 

There  was  very  little  done  in  the  Beacon 
Street  house  that  day  but  to  "  get  ready  for 
Billy. ' '  In  the  kitchen  Dong  Ling  cooked. 
Everywhere  else,  except  in  Cyril's  domain, 
Pete  dusted  and  swept  and  "  puttered  "  to 
his  heart's  content.  William  did  not  go  to 
the  office  at  all  that  day,  and  Bertram  did  not 
touch  his  brushes.  Only  Cyril  attended  to 


Getting  Ready  for  Billy          37 

his  usual  work :  practising  for  a  coming  con- 
cert, and  correcting  the  proofs  of  his  new 
book,  "  Music  in  Russia." 

At  ten  minutes  before  five  William,  anx- 
ious-eyed and  nervous,  found  himself  at  the 
North  Station.  Then,  and  not  till  then,  did 
he  draw  a  long  breath  of  relief. 

11  There!  I  think  everything's  ready,"  he 
sighed  to  himself.  "  At  last!  ' 

He  wore  no  pink  in  his  buttonhole.  There 
was  no  need  that  he  should  accede  to  that 
silly  request,  he  told  himself.  He  had  only 
to  look  for  a  youth  of  perhaps  eighteen  years, 
who  would  be  alone,  a  little  frightened,  pos- 
sibly, and  who  would  have  a  pink  in  his 
buttonhole,  and  probably  a  dog  on  a 
leash. 

As  he  waited,  the  man  was  conscious  of  a 
curious  warmth  at  his  heart.  It  was  his 
namesake,  Walter  Neilson's  boy,  that  he  had 
come  to  meet ;  a  homesick,  lonely  orphan  who 
had  appealed  to  him  —  to  him,  ouf  of  all  the 
world.  Long  years  ago  in  his  own  arms 
there  had  been  laid  a  tiny  bundle  of  flannel 
holding  a  precious  little  red,  puckered  face. 


38  Miss  Billy 

But  in  a  month's  time  the  little  face  had 
turned  cold  and  waxen,  and  the  hopes  that 
the  white  flannel  bundle  had  carried  had  died 
with  the  baby  boy ;  —  and  that  baby  would 
have  been  a  lad  grown  by  this  time,  if  he  had 
lived  —  a  lad  not  far  from  the  age  of  this 
Billy  who  was  coming  to-day,  reflected  the 
man.  And  the  warmth  in  his  heart  deepened 
and  glowed  the  more  as  he  stood  waiting  at 
the  gate  for  Billy  to  arrive. 

The  train  from  Hampden  Falls  was  late. 
Not  until  quite  fifteen  minutes  past  five  did 
it  roll  into  the  train-shed.  Then  at  once  its 
long  line  of  passengers  began  to  sweep  to- 
ward the  iron  gate. 

William  was  just  inside  the  gate  now, 
anxiously  scanning  every  face  and  form  that 
passed.  There  were  many  half-grown  lads, 
but  there  was  not  one  with  a  pink  in  his  but- 
tonhole until  very  near  the  end.  Then  Will- 
iam saw  him  —  a  pleasant-faced,  blue-eyed 
boy  in  a  neat  gray  suit.  With  a  low  cry 
William  started  forward ;  but  he  saw  at  once 
that  the  gray-clad  youth  was  unmistakably 
one  of  a  merry  family  party.  He  looked  to 


Getting  Ready  for  Billy          39 

be  anything  but  a  lad  that  was  lonely  and  for- 
lorn. 

William  hesitated  and  fell  back.  This 
debonair,  self-reliant  fellow  could  not  be 
Billy!  But  as  a  hasty  glance  down  the  line 
revealed  only  half  a  dozen  straggling  women, 
and  beyond  them,  no  one,  William  decided 
that  it  must  be  Billy;  and  taking  brave 
hold  of  his  courage,  he  hurried  after  the 
blue-eyed  youth  and  tapped  him  on  the 
shoulder. 

"  Er  —  aren't  you  Billy?  "  he  stammered. 

The  lad  stopped  and  stared.  He  shook  his 
head  slowly. 

11  No,  sir,"  he  said. 

1 '  But  you  must  be !    Are  you  sure  1  ' ' 

The  boy  laughed  this  time. 

"  Sorry,  sir,  but  my  name  is  i  Frank  'j 
isn't  it,  mother?  "  he  added  merrily,  turning 
to  the  lady  at  his  side,  who  was  regarding 
William  very  unfavorably  through  a  pair  of 
gold-bowed  spectacles. 

William  did  jot  wait  for  more.  With  a 
stammered  apology  and  a  flustered  lifting  of 
his  hat  he  backed  away. 


40  Miss  Billy 

But  where  was  Billy? 

William  looked  about  him  in  helpless  dis- 
may. All  around  was  a  wide,  empty  space. 
The  long  aisle  to  the  Hampden  Falls  train 
was  deserted  save  for  the  baggage-men  load- 
ing the  trunks  and  bags  on  to  their  trucks. 
Nowhere  was  there  any  one  who  seemed  for- 
lorn or  ill  at  ease  except  a  pretty  girl  with  a 
suit-case,  and  with  a  covered  basket  on  her 
arm,  who  stood  just  outside  the  gate,  gazing  a 
little  nervously  about  her. 

William  looked  twice  at  this  girl.  First, 
because  the  splash  of  color  against  her  brown 
coat  had  called  his  attention  to  the  fact  that 
she  was  wearing  a  pink;  and  secondly  be- 
cause she  was  very  pretty,  and  her  dark  eyes 
carried  a  peculiarly  wistful  appeal. 

"  Too  bad  Bertram  isn't  here,"  thought 
William.  "  He'd  be  sketching  that  face  in 
no  time  on  his  cuff. ' ' 

The  pink  had  given  William  almost  a  pang. 
He  had  been  so  longing  to  see  a  pink  — 
though  in  a  different  place.  He  wondered 
sympathetically  if  she,  too,  had  come  to  meet 
some  one  who  had  not  appeared.  He  noticed 


Getting  Ready  for  Billy          41 

that  she  walked  away  from  the  gate  ouce  or 
twice,  toward  the  waiting-room,  and  peered 
anxiously  through  the  glass  doors;  but  al- 
ways she  came  back  to  the  gate  as  if  fearful 
to  be  long  away  from  that  place.  He  forgot 
all  about  her  very  soon,  for  her  movements 
had  given  him  a  sudden  idea :  perhaps  Billy 
was  in  the  waiting-room.  How  stupid  of  hin. 
not  to  think  of  it  before !  Doubtless  they  had 
missed  each  other  in  the  crowd,  and  Billy 
had  gone  straight  to  the  waiting-room  to 
look  for  him.  And  with  this  thought  William 
hurried  away  at  once,  leaving  the  girl  still 
standing  by  the  gate  alone. 

He  looked  everywhere.  Systematically  he 
paced  up  and  down  between  the  long  rows  of 
seats,  looking  for  a  boy  with  a  pink.  He  even 
went  out  upon  the  street,  and  gazed  anxiously 
in  all  directions.  It  occurred  to  him  after  a 
time  that  possibly  Billy,  like  himself,  had 
changed  his  mind  at  the  last  moment,  and 
not  worn  the  pink.  Perhaps  he  had  for- 
gotten it,  or  lost  it,  or  even  not  been  able  to 
get  it  at  all.  Very  bitterly  William  blamed 
himself  then  for  disregarding  his  own  part 


42  Miss  Billy 

of  the  suggested  plan.  If  only  he  had  worn 
the  pink  himself !  —  but  he  had  not ;  and  it 
was  useless  to  repine.  In  the  meantime, 
where  was  Billy,  he  wondered  frantically. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE   COMING   OF   BILLY 

AFTEE  another  long  search  William  came 
back  to  the  train-shed,  vaguely  hoping  that 
Billy  might  even  then  be  there.  The  girl  was 
still  standing  alone  by  the  gate.  There  was 
another  train  on  the  track  now,  and  the  rush 
of  many  feet  had  swept  her  a  little  to  one 
side.  She  looked  frightened  now,  and  almost 
ready  to  cry.  Still,  William  noticed  that  her 
chin  was  lifted  bravely,  and  that  she  was 
making  a  stern  effort  at  self-control.  He 
hesitated  a  moment,  then  went  straight  to- 
ward her. 

* '  I  beg  your  pardon, ' '  he  said  kindly,  lift- 
ing his  hat,  * '  but  I  notice  that  you  have  been 
waiting  here  some  time.  Perhaps  there 
is  something  I  can  do  for  you." 

A  rosy  color  swept  to  the  girl 's  face.  Her 
eyes  lost  their  frightened  appeal,  and  smiled 
frankly  into  his. 

43 


44  Miss  Billy 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  sir!  There  is  something 
you  can  do  for  me,  if  you  will  be  so  kind. 
You  see,  I  can't  leave  this  place,  I'm  so  afraid 
he'll  come  and  I'll  miss  him.  But  —  I  think 
there's  some  mistake.  Could  you  telephone 
for  me?  "  Billy  Neilson  was  country-bred, 
and  in  Hampden  Falls  all  men  served  all 
other  men  and  women,  whether  they  were 
strangers  or  not;  so  to  Billy  this  was  not 
an  extraordinary  request  to  make,  in  the 
least. 

William  Henshaw  smiled. 

"  Certainly;  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  tele- 
phone for  you.  Just  tell  me  whom  you  want, 
and  what  you  want  to  say. ' ' 

' '  Thank  you.  If  you  11  call  up  Mr.  William 
Henshaw,  then,  of  Beacon  Street,  please,  and 
tell  him  Billy's  come.  I'll  wait  here." 

'  *  Oh,  then  Billy  did  come !  ' '  cried  the  man 
in  glad  surprise,  his  face  alight.  '  *  But  where 
is  he?  Do  you  know.- Billy?  " 

"  I  should  say  I  did,"  laughed  Billy,  with 
the  lightness  of  a  long-lost  child  who  has 
found  a  friend.  "  Why,  I  am  Billy,  my- 
self! " 


The  Coming  of  Billy  45 

To  William  Henshaw  the  world  swam  diz- 
zily, and  went  suddenly  mad.  The  floor  rose, 
and  the  roof  fell,  while  cars  and  people  per- 
formed impossible  acrobatic  feats  above, 
below,  and  around  him.  Then,  from  afar  off, 
he  heard  his  own  voice  stammer : 

"  You  —  are  —  B-Billy!  " 

"  Yes ;  and  I'll  wait  here,  if  you'll  just  tell 
him,  please.  He's  expecting  me,  you  know, 
so  it's  all  right,  only  perhaps  he  made  a  mis- 
take in  the  time.  Maybe  you  know  him,  any- 
how." 

With  one  mighty  effort  William  Henshaw 
pulled  himself  sharply  together.  He  even 
laughed,  and  tossed  his  head  in  a  valiant  imi- 
tation of  Billy  herself ;  but  his  voice  shook. 

* '  Know  him !  —  I  should  say  I  did !  "  he 
cried.  "  Why,  I  am  William  Henshaw,  my- 
self." 

"You!  —  Uncle  William!  Why,  where 's 
your  pink  ?  ' ' 

The  man's  face  was  already  so  red  it  could 
not  get  any  redder  —  but  it  tried  to  do  so. 

*  *  Why,  er  —  I  —  it  —  er  —  if  you  '11  just 
come  into  the  waiting-room  a  minute,  my 


46  Miss  Billy 

dear, ' '  he  stuttered  miserably,  "  I  —  I  '11  ex- 
plain —  about  that.  I  shall  have  to  leave 
you  —  for  a  minute,"  he  plunged  on  fren- 
ziedly,  as  he  led  the  way  to  a  seat;  "  A- 
matter  of  business  that  I  must  attend  to.  I'll 
be  —  right  back.  Wait  here,  please !  '  And 
he  almost  pushed  the  girl  into  a  seat  and  hur- 
ried away. 

At  a  safe  distance  William  Henshaw  turned 
and  looked  back.  His  knees  were  shaking, 
and  his  fingers  had  grown  cold  at  their  tips. 
He  could  see  her  plainly,  as  she  bent  over  the 
basket  in  her  lap.  He  could  see  even  the 
pretty  curve  of  her  cheek,  and  of  her  slender 
throat  when  she  lifted  her  head. 

And  that  was  Billy  —  a  girl! 

People  near  him  at  that  moment  saw  a 
flushed-faced,  nervous-appearing  man  throw 
up  his  hands  with  a  despairing  gesture,  roll 
his  eyes  heavenward,  and  then  plunge  into 
the  nearest  telephone  booth. 

In  due  time  William  Henshaw  had  his 
brother  Bertram  at  the  other  end  of  the 
wire. 

"  Bertram!  "  he  called  shakilv. 


The  Coming  of  Billy  47 

"  Hullo,  Will;  that  you?  What's  the  mat- 
ter? You're  late!  Didn't  he  come?  " 

'  *  Come !  ' '  groaned  William.  ' '  Good 
Lord!  Bertram  —  Billy's  a  girl!' 

11  A  wh-what?  " 

"A  girl." 

"  A  girl!" 

"  Yes,  yes!  Don't  stand  there  repeating 
what  I  say  in  that  idiotic  fashion,  Bertram. 
Do  something  —  do  something!  ' 

"  *  Do  something'!"  gasped  Bertram. 
' '  Great  Scott,  Will !  If  you  want  me  to  do 
something,  don't  knock  me  silly  with  a  blow 
like  that.  Now  what  did  you  say?  ' 

''I  said  that  Billy  is  —  a  —  girl.  Can't 
you  get  that?  "  demanded  William,  despair- 
ingly. 

"  Well,  by  Jove!  "  breathed  Bertram. 

"  Come,  come,  think!  What  shall  we  do?  ' 

"  Why,  bring  her  home,  of  course." 

* '  Home  —  home !  ' '  chattered  William. 
"  Do  you  think  we  five  men  can  bring  up  a 
distractingly  pretty  eighteen-year-old  girl 
with  curly  cheeks  and  pink  hair?  " 

"  With  wha-at?  " 


48  Miss  Billy 

"  No,  no.  I  mean  curly  hair  and  pink 
cheeks.  Bertram,  do  be  sensible,"  begged 
the  man.  '  *  This  is  serious !  ' : 

"  Serious!  I  should  say  it  was!  Only 
fancy  what  Cy  will  say !  A  girl !  Holy  smoke ! 
Tote  her  along  —  I  want  to  see  her !  ' ' 

"  But  I  say  we  can't  keep  her  there  with 
us,  Bertram.  Don't  you  see  we  can't?  ' 

"  Then  take  her  to  Kate's,  or  to  —  to  one 
of  those  Young  Women's  Christian  Union 
things. ' ' 

"  No,  no,  I  can't  do  that.  That's  impos- 
sible. Don't  you  understand?  She's  expect- 
ing to  go  home  with  me  —  home!  I'm  her 
Uncle  William." 

"  Lucky  Uncle  William!  " 

"  Be  still,  Bertram!  " 

"  Well,  doesn't  she  know  your  —  mistake? 
—  that  you  thought  she  was  a  boy?  ' 

1 '  Heaven  forbid !  —  I  hope  not, ' '  cried  the 
man,  fervently.  "  I  'most  let  it  out  once,  but 
I  think  she  didn  't  notice  it.  You  see,  we  — 
we  were  both  surprised." 

"Well,  I  should  say!  " 

"  And,  Bertram,  I  can't  turn  her  out  —  I 


The  Coming  of  Billy  49 

can't,  I  tell  you.  Only  fancy  my  going  to  her 
now  and  saying:  '  If  you  please,  Billy,  you 
can't  live  at  my  house,  after  all.  I  thought 
you  were  a  boy,  you  know!  '  Great  Scott! 
Bert,  if  she'd  once  turned  those  big  brown 
eyes  of  hers  on  you  as  she  has  on  me,  you'd 
see!  " 

"  I'd  be  delighted,  I'm  sure,"  sung  a  merry 
voice  across  the  wires.  "  Sounds  real  inter- 
esting! " 

"  Bertram,  can't  you  be  serious  and  help 
me  out?  " 

1 '  But  what  can  we  do  1  " 

"  I  don't  know.  We'll  have  to  think;  but 
for  now,  get  Kate.  Telephone  her.  Tell  her 
to  come  right  straight  over,  and  that  she's  got 
to  stay  all  night." 

"All  night!  " 

"  Of  course!  Billy's  got  to  have  a 
chaperon;  hasn't  she?  Now  hurry.  We 
shall  be  up  right  away." 

"  Kate's  got  company.*' 

* '  Never  mind  —  leave  'em.  Tell  her  she 's 
got  to  leave  'em.  And  tell  Cyril,  of  course, 
what  to  expect.  And,  look  a-here,  you  two 


50  Miss  Billy 

behave,  now.  None  of  your  nonsense !  Now 
mind.  I'm  not  going  to  have  this  child  tor- 
mented. ' ' 

"  I  won't  bat  an  eyelid  —  on  my  word,  I 
won't,"  chuckled  Bertram.  "  But,  oh,  I  say 
—  Will!  " 

"  Yes." 

"What's  Spunk?  " 

"  Eh  ?  —  oh  —  Great  Scott !  I  forgot 
Spunk.  I  don't  know.  She's  got  a  basket. 
He's  in  that,  I  suppose.  Anyhow,  he  can't  be 
any  more  of  a  bombshell  than  his  mistress 
was.  Now  be  quick,  and  none  of  your  fooling, 
Bertram.  Tell  them  all  —  Pete  and  Dong 
Ling.  Don't  forget.  I  wouldn't  have  Billy 
find  out  for  the  World !  Fix  it  up  with  Kate. 
You'll  have  to  fix  it  up  with  her ;  that's  all !  ' 
And  there  came  the  sharp  click  of  the  receiver 
against  the  hook. 


CHAPTER 

INTRODUCING   SPUNK 

IN  the  soft  April  %twilight  Cyril  was  playing 
a  dreamy  waltz  when  Bertram  knocked,  and 
pushed  open  the  door. 

"  Say,  old  chap,  you'll  have  to  quit  your 
mooning  this  time  and  sit  up  and  take  no- 
tice." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  Cyril  stopped 
playing  and  turned  abruptly. 

"  I  mean  that  Will  has  gone  crazy,  and  I 
think  the  rest  of  us  are  going  to  follow 
suit." 

Cyril  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  whirled 
about  on  the  piano  stool.  In  a  moment  his 
fingers  had  slid  once  more  into  the  dreamy 
waltz. 

"  When  you  get  ready  to  talk  sense,  I'll 
listen,"  he  said  coldly. 

"  Oh,  very  well;  if  you  really  want  it 
broken  gently,  it 's  this :  Will  has  met  Billy, 

61 


52  Miss  Billy 

and  Billy  is  a  girl.  They're  due  here  now 
'most  any  time." 

The  music  stopped  with  a  crash. 

"  A  —  girl!" 

11  Yes,  a  girl.  Oh,  I've  been  all  through 
that,  and  I  know  how  you  feel.  But  as  near 
as  I  can  make  out,  it's  really  so.  I've  had 
instructions  to  tell  everybody,  and  I've  told. 
I  got  Kate  on  the  telephone,  and  she's  coming 
over.  You  know  what  she'll  be.  Dong.  Ling 
is  having  what  I  suppose  are  Chinese  hyster- 
ics in  the  kitchen ;  and  Pete  is  swinging  back 
and  forth  like  a  pendulum  in  the  dining-room, 
moaning  '  Good  Lord,  deliver  us !  '  at  every 
breath.  I  would  suggest  that  you  follow  me 
down-stairs  so  that  we  may  be  decently  ready 
for  —  whatever  comes."  And  he  turned 
about  and  stalked  out  of  the  room,  followed 
by  Cyril,  who  was  too  stunned  to  open  his 
lips. 

Kate  came  first.  She  was  not  stunned. 
She  had  a  great  deal  to  say. 

"  Eeally,  this  is  a  little  the  most  absurd 
thing  I  ever  heard  of, ' '  she  fumed.  * '  What 
in  the  world  does'  your  brother  mean?  " 


Introducing  Spunk  53 

That  she  quite  ignored  her  own  relation- 
ship to  the  culprit  was  not  lost  on  Bertram. 
He  made  instant  response. 

"  As  near  as  I  can  make  out,"  he  replied 
smoothly,  "  your  brother  has  fallen  under  the 
sway  of  a  pair  of  great  dark  eyes,  two  pink 
cheeks,  and  an  unknown  quantity  of  curly 
hair,  all  of  which  in  its  entirety  is  his  name- 
sake, is  lonesome,  and  is  in  need  of  a  home." 

1 '  But  she  can 't  live  —  here !  ' ' 

"  Will  says  she  shall." 

"  But  that  is  utter  nonsense,"  cut  in 
Cyril. 

11  For  once  I  agree  with  you,  Cyril," 
laughed  Bertram;  "  but  William  doesn't." 

"But  how  can  she  do  it?"  demanded 
Kate. 

"  Don't  know,"  answered  Bertram.  "  He's 
established  a  petticoat  propriety  in  you  for 
a  few  hours,  at  least.  Meanwhile,  he's  going 
to  think.  At  least,  he  says  he  is,  and  that 
we've  got  to  help  him." 

"  Humph!  "  snapped  Kate.  "  Well,  I  can 
prophesy  we  sha'n't  think  alike  —  so  you'd 
notice  it !  " 


54  Miss  Billy 

*'  I  know  that,"  nodded  Bertram;  "  and 
I'm  with  you  and  Cyril  on  this.  The  whole 
thing  is  absurd.  The  idea  of  thrusting  a  silly, 
eighteen-year-old  girl  here  into  our  lives  in 
this  fashion!  But  you  know  what  Will  is 
when  he's  really  roused.  You  might  as  well 
try  to  move  a  nice  good-natured  mountain  by 
saying  '  please,'  as  to  try  to  stir  him  under 
certain  circumstances.  Most  of  the  time,  I'll 
own,  we  can  twist  him  around  our  little 
fingers.  But  not  now.  You'll  see.  In  the 
first  place,  she's  the  daughter  of  his  dead 
friend,  and  she  did  write  a  pathetic  little 
letter.  It  got  to  the  inside  of  me,  anyhow, 
when  I  thought  she  was  a  boy." 

"  A  boy!  Who  wouldn't  think  she  was  a 
boy?  "  interposed  Cyril.  "  '  Billy,'  indeed! 
Can  you  tell  me  what  for  any  sane  man 
should  have  named  a  girl  '  Billy  '  ?  " 

"  For  William,  your  brother,  evidently," 
retorted  Bertram,  dryly.  "  Anyhow,  he  did 
it,  and  of  course  our  mistake  was  a  very 
natural  one.  The  dickens  of  it  is  now  that 
we've  got  to  keep  it  from  her,  so  Will  says; 
and  how  —  hush!  here  they  are,"  he  broke 


Introducing  Spunk  55 

off,  as  there  came  the  sound  of  wheels  stop- 
ping before  the  house. 

There  followed  the  click  of  a  key  in  the 
lock  and  the  opening  of  a  heavy  door;  then, 
full  in  the  glare  of  the  electric  lights  stood  a 
plainly  nervous  man,  and  a  girl  with  startled, 
appealing  eyes. 

"  My  dear,"  stammered  "William,  "  this 
is  my  sister,  Kate,  Mrs.  Hartwell ;  and  here 
are  Cyril  and  Bertram,  whom  I've  told  you 
of.  And  of  course  I  don't  need  to  say  to 
them  that  you  are  Billy." 

It  was  over.  William  drew  a  long  breath, 
and  gave  an  agonized  look  into  his  brothers' 
eyes.  Then  Billy  turned  from  Mrs.  Hartwell 
and  held  out  a  cordial  hand  to  each  of  the  men 
in  turn. 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know  how  lovely  this  is  — 
to  me, ' '  she  cried  softly.  * '  And  to  think  that 
you  were  willing  I  should  come!  '  The  two 
younger  men  caught  their  breath  sharply, 
and  tried  not  to  see  each  other's  eyes.  "  You 
look  so  good  —  all  of  you;  and  I  don't  be- 
lieve there's  one  of  you  that's  got  nerves  or 
a  heart,"  she  laughed. 


56  Miss  Billy 

Bertram  rallied  Ms  wits  to  respond  to  the 
challenge. 

"  No  heart,  Miss  Billy?  Now  isn't  that 
just  a  bit  hard  on  us  —  right  at  first?  ' 

'  *  Not  a  mite,  if  you  take  it  the  way  I  mean 
it,"  dimpled  Billy.  "  Hearts  that  are  all 
right  just  keep  on  pumping,  and  you  never 
know  they  are  there.  They  aren't  worth 
mentioning.  It's  the  other  kind  —  the  kind 
that  flutters  at  the  least  noise  and  jumps  at 
the  least  bang!  And  I  don't  believe  any  of 
you  mind  noises  and  bangs,"  she  finished 
merrily,  as  she  handed  her  hat  and  coat  to 
Mrs.  Hartwell,  who  was  waiting  to  receive 
them. 

Bertram  laughed.  Cyril  scowled,  and  oc- 
cupied himself  in  finding  a  chair.  William 
had  already  dropped  himself  wearily  on  to 
the  sofa  near  his  sister.  Billy  still  continued 
to  talk. 

*  *  Now  when  Spunk  and  I  get  to  training  — 
oh,  and  you  haven't  seen  Spunk!  "  she  in- 
terrupted herself  suddenly.  "  Why,  the 
introductions  aren't  half  over.  Where  is 
he,  Uncle  William  —  the  basket?  " 


Introducing  Spunk  57 

'  *  I  —  I  put  it  in  —  in  the  hall, ' '  mumbled 
William,  starting  to  rise. 

*  *  No,  no ;  I  '11  get  him, ' '  cried  Billy,  hurry- 
ing from  the  room.     She  returned  in  a  mo- 
ment, the  green  covered  basket  in  her  hand. 
"  He's  been  asleep,  I  guess.  He's  slept  'most 
all  the  way  down,  anyhow.    He's  so  used  to 
being  toted   'round  in  this  basket  that  he 
doesn't  mind  it  a  bit.    I  take  him  everywhere 
in  it  at  the  Falls." 

There  was  an  electric  pause.  Four  pairs 
of  startled,  questioning,  fearful  eyes  were  on 
the  basket  while  Billy  fumbled  at  the  knot 
of  the  string.  The  next  moment,  with  a 
triumphant  flourish,  Billy  lifted  from  the 
basket  and  placed  on  the  floor  a  very 
small  gray  kitten  with  a  very  large  pink 
bow. 

*  *  There,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  may  I  pre- 
sent to  you,  Spunk." 

The  tiny  creature  winked  and  blinked,  and 
balanced  for  a  moment  on  sleepy  legs ;  then 
at  the  uncontrollable  shout  that  burst  from 
Bertram's  throat,  he  faced  the  man,  humped 
his  tiny  back,  bristled  his  diminutive  tail  to 


58  Miss  Billy 

almost  unbelievable  fluffiness,  and  spit  wrath- 
fully. 

'  *  And  so  that  is  Spunk !  ' '  choked  Bertram. 
"  Yes,"  said  Billy.    "  This  is  Spunk." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    BOOM AXD    BILLY 

FOB  the  first  fifteen  minutes  after  Billy's 
arrival  conversation  was  a  fitful  thing  made 
up  mostly  of  a  merry  monologue  on  the  part 
of  Billy  herself,  interspersed  with  somewhat 
dazed  replies  from  one  after  another  of  her 
auditors  as  she  talked  to  them  in  turn.  No 
one  thought  to  ask  if  she  cared  to  go  up  to 
her  room,  and  during  the  entire  fifteen 
minutes  Billy  sat  on  the  floor  with  Spunk  in 
her  lap.  She  was  still  there  when  the 
funereal  face  of  Pete  appeared  in  the  door- 
way. Pete's  jaw  dropped.  It  was  plain  that 
only  the  sternest  self-control  enabled  him  to 
announce  dinner,  with  anything  like  dignity. 
But  he  managed  to  stammer  out  the  words, 
and  then  turn  loftily  away.  Bertram,  who 

sat  pear  the  door,  however,  saw  him  raise  his 

a 


60  Miss  Billy 

ia--".i:--..-.T"-;—g'.".!"""i  .  ,..  "-';•»•'"          ..   ,.,?.  ..-sac 

hands  in  horror  as  he  plunged  through  the 
hall  and  down  the  stairway. 

With  a  motion  to  Bertram  to  lead  the 
way  with  Billy,  William  frenziedly  gripped 
his  sister's  arm,  and  hissed  in  her  ear 
for  all  the  world  like  a  villain  in  melo- 
drama : 

"  Listen!  You'll  sleep  in  Bert's  room  to- 
night, and  Bert  will  come  up-stairs  with  me. 
Get  Billy  to  bed  as  soon  as  you  can  after 
dinner,  and  then  come  back  down  to  us. 
We've  got  to  plan  what's  got  to  be  done. 
Sh-hl  >:  And  he  dragged  his  sister  down- 
stairs. 

In  the  dining-room  there  was  a  slight  com- 
motion. Billy  stood  at  her  chair  with  Spunk 
in  her  arms.  Before  her  Pete  ^as  standing, 
dumbly  staring  into  her  eyes.  At  last  he 
stammered : 

"  Ma'am?  " 

"  A  chair,  please,  I  said,  for  Spunk,  you 
know.  Spunk  always  sits  at  the  table  right 
next  to  me." 

It  was  too  much  for  Bertram.  He  fled 
chokingly  tg  the  hall.  William  dropped 


The  Room  —  and  Billy  61 

weakly  into  his  own  place.  Cyril  stared  as 
had  Pete ;  but  Mrs.  Hartwell  spoke. 

"  You  don't  mean  —  that  that  cat  —  has  a 
chair  —  at  the  table!  "  she  gasped. 

"  Yes;  and  isn't  it  cute  of  him?  "  beamed 
Billy,  entirely  misconstruing  the  surprise  in 
the  lady's  voice.  "  His  mother  always  sat 
at  table  with  us,  and  behaved  beautifully, 
too.  Of  course  Spunk  is  little,  and  makes 
mistakes  sometimes.  But  he'll  learn.  Oh, 
there's  a  chair  right  here,"  she  added,  as 
she  spied  Bertram's  childhood's  high-chair, 
which  for  long  years  had  stood  unused  in  the 
corner.  "  I'll  just  squeeze  it  right  in  here," 
she  finished  gleefully,  making  room  for  the 
chair  at  her  side. 

When  Bertram,  a  little  red  of  face,  but 
very  grave,  entered  the  dining-room  a  mo- 
ment later,  he  found  the  family  seated  with 
Spunk  snugly  placed  between  Billy  and  a 
plainly  disgusted  and  dismayed  brother, 
Cyril.  The  kitten  was  alert  and  interested; 
but  he  had  settled  back  in  his  chair,  and  was 
looking  as  absurdly  dignified  as  the  flaring 
pink  bow  would  let  him. 


62  Miss  Billy 

"  Isn't  he  a  dear?  "  Billy  was  saying. 
But  Bertram  noticed  that  there  was  no  reply 
to  this  question. 

It  was  a  peculiar  dinner-party.  Only  Billy 
did  not  feel  the  strain.  Even  Spunk  was  not 
entirely  happy  —  his  efforts  to  investigate 
the  table  and  its  contents  were  too  frequently 
curbed  by  his  mistress  for  his  unalloyed  satis- 
faction. William,  it  is  true,  made  a  valiant 
attempt  to  cause  the  conversation  to  be 
general;  but  he  failed  dismally.  Kate  was 
sternly  silent,  while  Cyril  was  openly  repel- 
lent. Bertram  talked,  indeed  —  but  Bertram 
always  talked;  and  very  soon  he  and  Billy 
had  things  pretty  much  to  themselves  —  that 
is,  with  occasional  interruptions  caused  by 
Spunk.  Spunk  had  an  inquisitive  nose  or 
paw  for  each  new  dish  placed  before  his 
mistress ;  and  Billy  spent  much  time  admon- 
ishing him.  Billy  said  she  was  training  him ; 
that  it  was  wonderful  what  training  would 
do,  and,  of  course,  Spunk  was  little,  now. 

Dinner  was  half  over  when  there  was  a 
slight  diversion  created  by  Spunk's  conclu- 
sion to  get  acquainted  with  the  silent  man  at 


The  Koom  —  and  Billy  63 

his  left.  Cyril,  however,  did  not  respond  to 
Spunk's  advances.  So  very  evident,  indeed, 
was  the  man's  aversion  that  Billy  turned  in 
amazement. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Cyril,  don't  you  see?  Spunk 
is  trying  to  say  i  How  do  you  do  '?  " 

"  Very  likely;  but  I'm  not  fond  of  cats, 
Miss  Billy." 

11  You're  not  fond  —  of  —  cats !  "  repeated 
the  girl,  as  if  she  could  not  have  heard  aright. 
"  Why  not?  " 

Cyril  changed  his  position. 

"  Why,  just  because  I — I'm  not,"  he  re- 
torted lamely.  "  Isn't  there  anything  that  — 
that  you  don't  like?  " 

Billy  considered. 

11  Why,  not  that  I  know  of,"  she  be- 
gan, after  a  moment,  "  only  rainy  days 
and  —  tripe.  And  Spunk  isn't  a  bit  like 
those." 

Bertram  chuckled,  and  even  Cyril  smiled  — 
though  unwillingly. 

"  All  the  same,"  he  reiterated,  "  I  don't 
like  cats." 

"  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,"  lamented  Billy;   and 


64  Miss  Billy 

at  the  grieved  hurt  in  her  dark  eyes  Bertram 
came  promptly  to  the  rescue. 

"  Never  mind,  Miss  Billy.  Cyril  is  only 
one  of  us,  and  there  is  all  the  rest  of  the 
Strata  besides." 

"  The  — what?  " 

11  The  Strata.  You  don't  know,  of  course, 
but  listen,  and  I'll  tell  you. ' '  And  he  launched 
gaily  forth  into  his  favorite  story. 

Billy  was  duly  amused  and  interested. 
She  laughed  and  clapped  her  hands,  and 
when  the  story  was  done  she  clapped  them 
again. 

1 l  Oh,  what  a  funny  house !  And  how  per- 
fectly lovely  that  I'm  going  to  live  in  it,"  she 
cried.  Then  straight  at  Mrs.  Hartwell  she 
hurled  a  bombshell.  "  But  where  is  your 
stratum?  "  she  demanded.  "  Mr.  Bertram 
didn't  mention  a  thing  about  you!  >: 

Cyril  said  a  sharp  word  under  his  breath. 
Bertram  choked  over  a  cough.  Kate  threw 
into  William's  eyes  a  look  that  was  at  once 
angry,  accusing,  and  despairing.  Then 
William  spoke. 

"  Er  —  she  —  it     isn't     anywhere,      my 


The  Room  —  and  Billy  65 

dear,"  he  stammered;  "  or  rather,  it  isn't 
here.  Kate  lives  up  on  the  Avenue,  you  see, 
and  is  only  here  for  —  for  a  day  or  two  — 
just  now." 

"  Oh!  "  murmured  Billy.  And  there  was 
not  one  in  the  room  at  that  moment  who  did 
not  bless  Spunk  —  for  Spunk  suddenly 
leaped  to  the  table  before  him;  and  in  the 
ensuing  confusion  his  mistress  quite  forgot 
to  question  further  concerning  Mrs.  Hart- 
well's  stratum. 

Dinner  over,  the  three  men,  with  their 
sister  and  Billy,  trailed  up-stairs  to  the 
drawing-rooms.  Billy  told  them,  then,  of  her 
life  at  Hampden  Falls.  She  cried  a  little  at 
the  mention  of  Aunt  Ella ;  and  she  portrayed 
very  vividly  the  lonely  life  from  which  she 
herself  had  so  gladly  escaped.  She  soon  had 
every  one  laughing,  even  Cyril,  over  her 
stories  of  the  lawyer's  home  that  might  have 
been  hers,  with  its  gloom  and  its  hush  and 
its  socketed  chairs. 

As  soon  as  possible,  however,  Mrs.  Hart- 
well,  with  a  murmured  ' '  I  know  you  must  be 
tired,  Billy,"  suggested  that  the  girl  go  up- 


66  Miss  Billy 

stairs  to  her  room.  "  Come,"  she  added,  "  I 
will  show  you  the  way. ' ' 

There  was  some  delay,  even  then,  for 
Spunk  had  to  be  provided  with  sleeping  quar- 
ters ;  and  it  was  not  without  some  hesitation 
that  Billy  finally  placed  the  kitten  in  the  re- 
luctant hands  of  Pete,  who  had  been  hastily 
summoned.  Then  she  turned  and  followed 
Mrs.  Hartwell  up-stairs. 

It  seemed  to  the  three  men  in  the  drawing- 
room  that  almost  immediately  came  the 
piercing  shriek,  and  the  excited  voice  of  their 
sister  in  expostulation.  Without  waiting  for 
more  they  leaped  to  the  stairway  and  hurried 
up,  two  steps  at  a  time. 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Kate,  what  is  it!  " 
panted  William,  who  had  been  outdistanced 
by  his  more  agile  brothers. 

Kate  was  on  her  feet,  lier  face  the  picture 
of  distressed  amazement.  In  the  low  chair 
by  the  window  Billy  sat  where  she  had  flung 
herself,  her  hands  over  her  face.  Her 
shoulders  were  shaking,  and  from  her  throat 
came  choking  little  cries. 

"  I   don't  know,"   quavered   Kate.     "  1 


The  Room  —  and  Billy  67 

haven't  the  least  idea.  She  was  all  right  till 
she  got  up-stairs  here,  and  I  turned  on  the 
lights.  Then  she  gave  one  shriek  and  —  you 
know  all  I  know." 

William  advanced  hurriedly. 

* '  Billy,  what  is  the  matter?  What  are  you 
crying  for?  "  he  demanded. 

Billy  dropped  her  hands  then,  and  they  saw 
her  face.  She  was  not  crying.  She  was 
laughing.  She  was  laughing  so  she  could 
scarcely  speak. 

"  Oh,  you  did,  you  did!  '  she  gur- 
gled. "  I  thought  you  did,  and  now  I 
know!  " 

-'Did  what?  What  do  you  mean?  "  Will- 
iam's usually  gentle  voice  was  sharp.  Even 
William's  nerves  were  beginning  to  feel  the 
strain  of  the  last  few  hours. 

''Thought  I  was  a  —  b-boy!  "  choked 
Billy.  "  You  called  me  '  he  '  once  in  the 
station  —  I  thought  you  did;  but  I  wasn't 
sure  —  not  till  I  saw  this  room.  But  now  I 
know  —  I  know!"  And  off  she  went 
into  another  hysterical  gale  of  laughter  — 
Billy's  nerves,  too,  were  beginning  to  re- 


68  Miss  Billy 

spond   to   the   excitement   of   the   last   few 
hours. 

As  to  the  three  men  and  the  woman,  they 
stood  silent,  helpless,  looking  into  each 
other's  faces  with  despairing  eyes. 

In  a  moment  Billy  was  on  her  feet,  flut- 
tering about  the  room,  touching  this 
thing,  looking  at  that.  Nothing  escaped 
her. 

"  I'm  to  fish  —  and  shoot  —  and  fence!  ' 
she  crowed.  "And,  oh!  —  look  at  those 
knives !  U-ugh !  .  .  .  And,  my !  what  are 
these?  "  she  cried,  pouncing  on  the  Indian 
clubs.  * '  And  look  at  the  spiders !  Dear, 
dear,  I  am  glad  they're  dead,  anyhow,"  she 
shuddered  with  a  nervous  laugh  that  was  al- 
most a  sob. 

Something  in  Billy's  voice  stirred  Mrs. 
Hartwell  to  sudden  action. 

"  Come,  come,  this  will  never  do,"  she 
protested  authoritatively,  motioning  her 
brothers  to  leave  the  room.  "  Billy  is  quite 
tired  out,  and  needs  rest.  She  mustn't  talk 
another  bit  to-night." 

11  Of  c-course  not,"  stammered  William. 


The  Room—  and  Billy  69 

And  only  too  glad  of  an  excuse  to  withdraw 
from  a  very  embarrassing  situation,  the 
three  men  called  back  a  faltering  good-night, 
and  precipitately  fled  down-stairs. 


CHAPTER   IX 

A   FAMILY   CONCLAVE 

"  WELL,  William,"  greeted  Kate,  grimly, 
when  she  came  into  the  drawing-room,  after 
putting  her  charge  to  bed,  "  have  you  had 
enough,  now?  " 

"  '  Enough  '!    What  do  you  mean?  " 

Kate  raised  her  eyebrows. 

"  Why,  surely,  you're  not  thinking  now 
that  you  can  keep  this  girl  here;  are 
you?  " 

"  I  don't  know  why  not." 

"William!  " 

"  Well,  where  shall  she  go?  Will  you  take 
her?  " 

"I?  Certainly  not,"  declared  Kate,  with 
decision.  "I'm  sure  I  see  no  reason  why  I 
should." 

ft  No  more  do  I  see  why  William  should, 
either,"  cut  in  Cyril. 

7S 


A  Family  Conclave  71 

"  Oh,  come,  what's  the  use,"  interposed 
Bertram.  "  Let  her  stay.  She's  a  nice  little 
thing,  I'm  sure." 

Cyril  and  Kate  turned  sharply. 

' '  Bertram !  ' '  The  cry  was  a  duet  of  angry 
amazement.  Then  Kate  added:  "  It  seems 
that  you,  too,  have  come  under  the  sway  of 
dark  eyes,  pink  cheeks,  and  an  unknown 
quantity  of  curly  hair !  ' ' 

Bertram  laughed. 

"  Oh,  well,  she  would  be  nice  to  —  er  — 
paint,"  he  murmured. 

"  See  here,  children,"  demurred  William, 
a  little  sternly,  "  all  this  is  wasting  time. 
There  is  no  way  out  of  it.  I  wouldn't  be  seen 
turning  that  homeless  child  away  now.  We 
must  keep  her;  that's  settled.  The  question 
is,  how  shall  it  be  done?  We  must  have 
some  woman  friend  here  to  be  her  compan- 
ion, of  course;  but  whom  shall  we  get?  " 

Kate  sighed,  and  looked  her  dismay. 
Bertram  threw  a  glance  into  Cyril's  eyes, 
and  made  an  expressive  gesture. 

"  You  see,"  it  seemed  to  say.  "  I  told  you 
how  it  would  be!  " 


72  Miss  Billy 

"  Now  whom  shall  we  get?  "  questioned 
William  again.  "  We  must  think." 

Unattached  gentlewomen  of  suitable  age 
and  desirable  temper  did  not  prove  to  be  so 
numerous  among  the  Henshaws'  acquaint- 
ances, however,  as  to  make  the  selection  of 
a  chaperon  very  easy.  Several  were  thought 
of  and  suggested;  but  in  each  case  the  can- 
didate was  found  to  possess  one  or  more 
characteristics  that  made  the  idea  of  her 
presence  utterly  abhorrent  to  some  one  of  the 
brothers.  At  last  William  expostulated: 

"  See  here,  boys,  we  aren't  any  nearer  a 
settlement  than  we  were  in  the  first  place. 
There  isn't  any  woman,  of  course,  who  would 
exactly  suit  all  of  us;  and  so  we  shall  just 
have  to  be  willing  to  take  some  one  who 
doesn't." 

"  The  trouble  is,"  explained  Bertram, 
airily,  * '  we  want  some  one  who  will  be  invis- 
ible to  every  one  except  the  world  and  Billy, 
and  who  will  be  inaudible  always." 

"  I  don't  know  but  you  are  right,"  sighed 
William.  "  But  suppose  we  settle  on  Aunt 
Hannah.  She  seems  to  be  the  least  objec- 


A  Family  Conclave  73 


tionable  of  the  lot,  and  I  think  she'd  come. 
She's  alone  in  the  world,  and  I  believe  the 
comfortable  roominess  of  this  house  would 
be  very  grateful  to  her  after  the  inconve- 
nience of  her  stuffy  little  room  over  at  the 
Back  Bay." 

' l  You  bet  it  would !  ' '  murmured  Bertram, 
feelingly;  but  William  did  not  appear  to 
hear  him. 

"  She's  amiable,  fairly  sensible,  and  al- 
ways a  lady,"  he  went  on;  "  and  to-morrow 
morning  I  believe  I'll  run  over  and  see  if  she 
can't  come  right  away." 

' '  And  may  I  ask  which  —  er  —  stratum 
she  —  they  —  will  occupy?"  smiled  Ber- 
tram. 

"  You  may  ask,  but  I'm  afraid  you  won't 
find  out  very  soon,"  retorted  William,  dryly, 
1 '  if  we  take  as  long  to  decide  that  matter  as 
we  have  the  rest  of  it." 

"  Er  —  Cyril  has  the  most  —  unoccu- 
pied space,"  volunteered  Bertram,  cheer- 
fully. 

"Indeed!"  retaliated  Cyril.  "Suppose 
you  let  me  speak  for  myself!  Of  course,  so 


74  Miss  Billy 

far  as  truck  is  concerned,  I'm  not  in  it  with 
you  and  Will.  But  as  for  the  use  I  put  my 
rooms  to  — !  Besides,  I  already  have  Pete 
there,  and  would  have  Dong  Ling  probably, 
if  he  slept  here.  However,  if  you  want  any 
of  my  rooms,  don't  let  my  petty  wants  and 
wishes  interfere —  " 

"  No,  no,"  interrupted  William,  in  quick 
conciliation.  "  We  don't  want  your  rooms, 
Cyril.  Aunt  Hannah  abhors  stairs.  Of 
course  I  might  move,  I  suppose.  My  rooms 
are  one  flight  less;  but  if  I  only  didn't  have 
so  many  things !  ' ' 

'  *  Oh,  you  men !  ' '  shrugged  Kate,  wearily. 
"  Why  don't  you  ask  my  opinion  sometimes? 
It  seems  to  me  that  in  this,  case  a  woman's 
wit  might  be  of  some  help !  ' ' 

* '  All  right,  go  ahead !  ' '  nodded  William. 

Kate  leaned  forward  eagerly  —  Kate  loved 
to  "  manage." 

11  Go  easy,  now,"  cautioned  Bertram,  wa- 
rily. "  You  know  a  strata,  even  one  as  solid 
as  ours,  won't  stand  too  much  of  an  earth- 
quake! " 

"  It  isn't  an  earthquake  at  all,"  sniffed 


A  Family  Conclave  75 

Kate.  "  It's  a  very  sensible  move  all 
around.  Here  are  these  two  great  drawing- 
rooms,  the  library,  and  the  little  reception- 
room  across  the  hall,  and  not  one  of  them  is 
ever  used  but  this.  Of  course  the  women 
wouldn't  like  to  sleep  down  here,  but  why 
don't  you,  Bertram,  take  the  back  drawing- 
room,  the  library,  and  the  little  reception- 
room  for  yours,  and  leave  the  whole  of  the 
second  floor  for  Billy  and  Aunt  Hannah?  ' 

"  Good  for  you,  Kate,"  cried  Bertram,  ap- 
preciatively. "  You've  hit  it  square  on  the 
head,  and  we'll  do  it.  I'll  move  to-morrow. 
The  light  down  here  is  just  as  good  as  it  is 
up-stairs  —  if  you  let  it  in!  " 

. "  Thank  you,  Bertram,  and  you,  too, 
Kate, ' '  breathed  William,  fervently.  ' '  Now, 
if  you  don 't  mind,  I  believe  I  '11  go  to  bed.  I 
am  tired!  " 


CHAPTER  X 

AUNT   HANNAH 

A.S  soon  as  possible  after  breakfast  Will- 
iara  went  to  see  Aunt  Hannah. 

Hannah  Stetson  was  not  really  "William's 
aunt,  though  she  had  been  called  Aunt  Han- 
nah for  years.  She  was  the  widow  of  a  dis- 
tant cousin,  and  she  lived  in  a  snug  little 
room  in  a  Back  Bay  boarding-house.  She 
was  a  slender,  white-haired  woman  with  kind 
blue  eyes,  and  a  lovable  smile.  Her  cheeks 
were  still  faintly  pink,  and  her  fine  silver- 
white  hair  broke  into  little  kinks  and  curls 
about  her  ears.  According  to  Bertram  she 
always  made  one  think  of  '  *  lavender  and  old 
lace." 

She  welcomed  William  cordially  this 
morning,  though  with  faint  surprise  in  her 
eyes. 

"  Yes,  I  know  Pin  an  early  caller,  and  an 
76 


Aunt  Hannah  77 

unexpected  one,"  began  William,  hurriedly. 
"  And  I  shall  have  to  plunge  straight  into 
the  matter,  too,  for  there  isn't  time  to  pre- 
amble. I've  taken  an  eighteen-year-old  girl 
to  bring  up,  Aunt  Hannah,  and  I  want  you  to 
come  down  and  live  with  us  to  chaperon 
her." 

"  My    grief    and    conscience,    William! ' 
gasped  the  little  woman,  agitatedly. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,  Aunt  Hannah,  every- 
thing you  would  say  if  you  could.  But  please 
skip  the  hysterics.  We've  all  had  them,  and 
Kate  has  already  used  every  possible  ad- 
jective that  you  could  think  up.  Now  it's 
just  this."  And  he  hurriedly  gave  Mrs. 
Stetson  a  full  account  of  the  case,  and  told 
her  plainly  what  he  hoped  and  expected  that 
she  would  do  for  him. 

"Why,  yes,  of  course  —  I'll  come,"  ac- 
quiesced the  lady,  a  little  breathlessly,  "  if 
—  if  you  are  sure  you're  going  to  —  keep 
her." 

"Good!  And  remember  I  said  'now,' 
please  —  that  I  wanted  you  to  come  right 
away,  to-day.  Of  course  Kate  can't 


78  Miss  Billy 

Just  get  in  half  a  dozen  women  to  help  you 
pack,  and  come." 

"  Half  a  dozen  women  in  that  little  room, 
William  —  impossible !  ' 

' '  Well,  I  only  meant  to  get  enough  so  you 
could  come  right  off  this  morning." 

"  But  I  don't  need  them,  William.  There 
are  only  my  clothes  and  books,  and  such 
things.  You  know  it  is  a  furnished  room." 

"  All  right,  all  right,  Aunt  Hannah.  I 
wanted  to  make  sure  you  hurried,  that's  all. 
You  see,  I  don't  want  Billy  to  suspect  just 
how  much  she's  upsetting  us.  I've  asked 
Kate  to  take  her  over  to  her  house  for  the 
day,  while  Bertram  is  moving  down-stairs, 
and  while  we're  getting  you  settled.  I  —  I 
think  you'll  like  it  there,  Aunt  Hannah," 
added  William,  anxiously.  "  Of  course 
Billy's  got  Spunk,  but —  "  he  hesitated,  and 
smiled  a  little. 

"  Got  what?  "  faltered  the  other. 

"  Spunk.  Oh,  I  don't  mean  that  kind," 
laughed  William,  in  answer  to  the  dismayed 
expression  on  his  aunt's  face.  "  Spunk  is  a 
cat." 


Aunt  Hannah  79 

' '  A  cat !  —  but  such  a  name,  William !  I 
—  I  think  we  '11  change  that. ' ' 

"  Eh!  Oh,  you  do,"  murmured  William, 
with  a  curious  smile.  "  Very  well;  be  that 
as  it  may.  Anyhow,  you're  coming,  and 
we  shall  want  you  all  settled  by  dinner 
time,"  he  finished,  as  he  picked  up  his  hat 
to  go. 

With  Kate,  Billy  spent  the  long  day  very 
contentedly  in  Kate's  beautiful  Common- 
wealth Avenue  home.  The  two  boys,  Paul, 
twelve  years  old,  and  Egbert,  eight,  were  a 
little  shy,  it  is  true,  and  not  really  of  much 
use  as  companions;  but  there  was  a  little 
Kate,  four  years  old,  who  proved  to  be  won- 
derfully entertaining. 

Billy  was  not  much  used  to  children,  and 
she  found  this  four-year-old  atom  of  human- 
ity to  be  a  great  source  of  interest  and 
amusement.  She  even  told  Mrs.  Hartwell  at 
parting  that  little  Kate  was  almost  as  nice 
as  Spunk  —  which  remark,  oddly  enough, 
did  not  appear  to  please  Mrs.  Hartwell 
to  the  extent  that  Billy  thought  that  it 
would. 


80  Miss  Billy 

At  the  Beacon  Street  house  Billy  was  pre- 
sented at  once  to  Mrs.  Stetson. 

"  And  you  are  to  call  me  '  Aunt  Hannah,' 
my  dear,"  said  the  little  woman,  graciously, 
"  just  as  the  boys  do." 

"  Thank  you,"  dimpled  Billy,  "  and  you 
don't  know,  Aunt  Hannah,  how  good  it  seems 
to  me  to  come  into  so  many  relatives,  all  at 
once!  " 

Upon  going  up-stairs  Billy  found  her  room 
somewhat  changed.  It  was  far  less  warlike, 
and  the  case  of  spiders  had  been  taken  away. 

"  And  this  will  be  your  stratum,  you 
know,"  announced  Bertram  from  the  stair- 
way, "  yours  and  Aunt  Hannah's.  You're 
to  have  this  whole  floor.  Will  and  Cyril  are 
above,  and  I'm  down-stairs." 

"  You  are?  Why,  I  thought  you  —  were 
—  here."  Billy's  face  was  puzzled. 

"Here?  Oh,  well,  I  did  have  —  some 
things  here,"  he  retorted  airily;  "  but  I  took 
them  all  away  to-day.  You  see,  my  stratum 
is  down-stairs,  and  it  doesn't  do  to  mix  the 
layers.  By  the  way,  you  haven't  been 
up-stairs  yet;  have  you?  Come  on,  and 


Aunt  Hannah  81 

I'll  show  you  —  and  you,  too,  Aunt  Han- 
nah." 

Billy  clapped  her  hands;  but  Aunt  Han- 
nah shook  her  head. 

"I'll  leave  that  for  younger  feet  than 
mine,"  she  said;  adding  whimsically:  "  It's 
best  sometimes  that  one  doesn't  try  to  step 
too  far  off  one's  own  level,  you  know." 

"  All  right,"  laughed  the  man.  "  Come 
on,  Miss  Billy." 

On  the  door  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  he 
tapped  twice,  lightly. 

"  Well,  Pete,"  called  Cyril's  voice,  none 
too  cordially. 

"  Pete,  indeed!  "  scoffed  Bertram. 
"  You've  got  company,  young  man.  Open 
the  door.  Miss  Billy  is  viewing  the  Strata." 

The  bare  floor  echoed  to  a  quick  tread,  then 
the  door  opened  and  Cyril  faced  them  with 
a  forced  smile  on  his  lips. 

"  Come  in  —  though  I  fear  there  will  be 
little  —  to  see,"  he  said. 

Bertram  assumed  a  pompous  attitude. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen;  you  behold  here 
the  lion  in  his  lair." 


82  Miss  Billy 

"  Be  still,  Bertram,"  ordered  Cyril. 

"  He  is  a  lion,  really,"  confided  Bertram, 
in  a  lower  voice ;  ' l  but  as  he  prefers  it,  we  '11 
just  call  him  '  the  Musical  Man.'  ' 

"  I  should  think  I  was  some  sort  of  music- 
box  that  turned  with  a  crank,"  bristled  Cyril. 

Bertram  grinned. 

"A  —  crank,  did  you  say ?  Well,  even  I 
wouldn't  have  quite  dared  to  say  that,  you 
know!  " 

With  an  impatient  gesture  Cyril  turned  on 
his  heel.  Bertram  fell  once  more  into  his 
pompous  attitude. 

"  Before  you  is  the  Man's  workshop,"  he 
orated.  "  At  your  right  you  see  his  instru- 
ments of  tor —  I  mean,  his  instruments:  a 
piano,  flute,  etc.  At  your  left  is  the  desk  with 
its  pens,  paper,  erasers,  ink  and  postage 
stamps.  I  mention  these  because  there  are 
—  er  —  so  few  things  to  mention  here.  Be- 
yond, through  the  open  door,  one  may  catch 
glimpses  of  still  other  rooms ;  but  they  hold 
even  less  than  this  one  holds.  Tradition 
doth  assert,  however,  that  in  one  is  a  couch- 
bed,  and  in  another,  two  chairs." 


Aunt  Hannah  83 

Billy  listened  silently.  Her  eyes  were 
questioning.  She  was  not  quite  sure  how  to 
take  Bertram's  words;  and  the  bare  rooms 
and  their  stern-faced  master  filled  her  with 
a  vague  pity.  But  the  pause  that  followed 
Bertram's  nonsense  seemed  to  be  waiting  foi 
her  to  fill  it. 

'  *  Oh,  I  should  like  to  hear  you  —  play,  Mr. 
Cyril,"  she  stammered.  Then,  gathering 
courage:  "  Can  you  play  *  The  Maiden's 
Prayer  '?  " 

Bertram  gave  a  cough,  a  spasmodic  cough 
that  sent  him,  red-faced,  out  into  the  hall. 
From  there  he  called: 

"  Can't  stop  for  the  animals  to  perform, 
Miss  Billy.  It's  'most  dinner  time,  and 
we've  got  lots  to  see  yet." 

4 '  All  right ;  but  —  sometime, ' '  nodded 
Billy  over  her  shoulder  to  Cyril  as  she  turned 
away.  "  I  just  love  that  *  Maiden's 
Prayer  ' !  " 

"  Now  this  is  William's  stratum,"  an- 
nounced Bertram  at- the  foot  of  the  stairs. 
"  You  will  perceive  that  there  is  no  knock- 
ing here;  William's  doors  are  always  open." 


84  Miss  Billy 

"By  all  means!  Come  in  —  come  in," 
called  William's  cheery  voice. 

"  Oh,  my,  what  a  lot  of  things!  "  ex- 
claimed Billy.  "  My  —  my  —  what  a  lot  of 
things!  How  Spunk  will  like  this  room!  ': 

Bertram  chuckled;  then  he  made  a  great 
display  of  drawing  a  long  breath. 

11  In  the  short  time  at  our  disposal,"  he 
began  loftily,  "  it  will  be  impossible  to  point 
out  each  particular  article  and  give  its  his- 
tory from  the  beginning ;  but  somewhere  you 
will  find  four  round  white  stones,  which —  ' 

"  Er  —  yes,  we  know  all  about  those  white 
stones,"  interrupted  William,  "  and  you'll 
please  let  me  talk  about  my  own  things 
myself!  "  And  he  beamed  benevolently 
on  the  wondering-eyed  girl  at  Bertram's 
side. 

"  But  there  are  so  many!  "  breathed  Billy. 

"  All  the  more  chance  then,"  smiled  Will- 
iam, "  that  somewhere  among  them  you'll 
find  something  to  interest  you.  Now  these 
Chinese  ceramics,  and  these  bronzes - 
maybe  you'd  like  those,"  he  suggested.  And 
with  a  resigned  sigh  and  an  exaggerated  air 


Aunt  Hannah  85 

of  submission,  Bertram  stepped  back  and 
gave  way  to  his  brother. 

"  And  there  are  these  miniatures,  and 
these  Japanese  porcelains.  Or  perhaps 
you'd  like  stamps,  or  theatre  programs 
better,"  William  finished  anxiously. 

Billy  did  not  reply.  She  was  turning 
round  and  round,  her  eyes  wide  and  amazed. 
Suddenly  she  pounced  on  a  beautifully  deco- 
rated teapot,  and  held  it  up  in  admiring 
hands. 

"  Oh,  what  a  pretty  teapot!  And  what  a 
cute  little  plate  it  sets  in !  "  she  cried. 

The  collector  fairly  bubbled  over  with  joy. 

1  i  That's  a  Lowestoft  —  a  real  Lowes- 
toft!  "  he  crowed.  "  Not  that  hard-paste 
stuff  from  the  Orient  that's  called  Lowes- 
toft,  but  the  real  thing  —  English,  you 
know.  And  that's  the  tray  that  goes  with  it, 
too.  Wonderful  —  how  I  got  them  both! 
You  know  they  'most  always  get  separated. 
I  paid  a  cool  hundred  for  them,  anyhow." 

"A    hundred    dollars    for    a    teapot!' 
gasped  Billy. 

"  Yes;    and  here's  a  nice  little  piece  of 


86  Miss  Billy 

lustre-ware.  Pretty  —  isn't  it?  And  there's 
a  fine  bit  of  black  basalt.  And  —  ' ' 

"  Er  —  Will,"  interposed  Bertram,  meekly. 

"  Oh,  and  here's  a  Castleford,"  cried 
William,  paying  no  attention  to  the  interrup- 
tion. ''Marked,  too;  see?  '  D.  D.  &  Co., 
Castleford.'  You  know  there  isn't  much  of 
that  ware  marked.  This  is  a  beauty,  too,  I 
think.  You  see  this  pitted  surface  —  they 
made  that  with  tiny  little  points  set  into  the 
inner  side  of  the  mold.  The  design  stands 
out  fine  on  this.  It's  one  of  the  best  I  ever 
saw.  And,  oh  —  " 

"  Er  —  William,"  interposed  Bertram 
again,  a  little  louder  this  time.  "  May  I 
just  say  —  ' ' 

"  And  did  you  notice  this  '  Old  Blue  '?  " 
hurried  on  William,  eagerly.  "  Lid  sets 
down  in,  you  see  —  that's  older  than  the  kind 
where  it  sets  over  the  top.  Now  here's 
one —  " 

"  William,"  almost  shouted  Bertram, 
"  dinner  is  ready  !  Pete  has  sounded  the 
gong  twice  already!  " 

"  Eh?    Oh.  sure  enpufirh  —  sure  enoueh." 


Aunt  Hannah  87 

acknowledged  William,  with  a  regretful 
glance  at  his  treasures.  "  "Well,  we  must 
go,  we  must  go." 

"  But  I  haven't  seen  your  stratum  at  all," 
demurred  Billy  to  her  guide,  as  they  went 
down  the  stairway. 

"  Then  there's  something  left  for  to-mor- 
row," promised  Bertram;  "  but  you  must 
remember,  I  haven't  got  any  beautiful  '  Old 
Blues  '  and  '  black  basalts,'  to  say  nothing  of 
stamps  and  baggage  tags.  But  I'll  make  you 
some  tea  —  some  real  tea  —  and  that's  more 
than  William  has  done,  with  all  his  hundred 
and  one  teapots  I  " 


CHAPTEE  XI 

BERTRAM   HAS   VISITORS 

Spunk  did  not  change  his  name;  but  that 
was  perhaps  the  only  thing  that  did  not  meet 
with  some  sort  of  change  during  the  weeks 
that  immediately  followed  Billy's  arrival. 
Given  a  house,  five  men,  and  an  ironbound 
routine  of  life,  and  it  is  scarcely  necessary 
to  say  that  the  advent  of  a  somewhat  fussy 
elderly  woman,  an  impulsive  young  girl,  and 
a  very-much-alive  small  cat  will  make  some 
difference.  As  to  Spunk's  name  —  it  was 
not  Mrs.  Stetson's  fault  that  even  that  was 
left  undisturbed. 

Mrs.  Stetson  early  became  acquainted  with 
Spunk.  She  was  introduced  to  him,  indeed, 
on  the  night  of  her  arrival  —  though  fortu- 
nately not  at  table:  "William  had  seen  to  it 
that  Spunk  did  not  appear  at  dinner,  though 

88 


Bertram  Has  Visitors  89 

to  accomplish,  this  the  man  had  been  obliged 
to  face  the  amazed  and  grieved  indignation 
of  the  kitten's  mistress. 

"  But  I  don't  see  how  any  one  can  object 
to  a  nice  clean  little  cat  at  the  table,"  Billy 
had  remonstrated  tearfully. 

* '  I  know ;  but  —  er  —  they  do,  some- 
times, ' '  William  had  stammered ;  ' '  and  this 
is  one  of  the  times.  Aunt  Hannah  would 
never  stand  for  it  —  never !  ' ' 

"  Oh,  but  she  doesn't  know  Spunk, "  Billy 
had  observed  then,  hopefully.  "  You  just 
wait  until  she  knows  him." 

Mrs.  Stetson  began  to  "  know  "  Spunk  the 
next  day.  The  immediate  source  of  her 
knowledge  was  the  discovery  that  Spunk  had 
found  her  ball  of  black  knitting  yarn,  and 
had  delightedly  captured  it.  Not  that  he 
was  content  to  let  it  remain  where  it  was  — 
indeed,  no.  He  rolled  it  down  the  stairs, 
batted  it  through  the  hall  to  the  drawing- 
room,  and  then  proceeded  to  chasse  with  it 
in  and  out  among  the  legs  of  various  chairs 
and  tables,  ending  in  one  grand  whirl  that 
wound  the  varn  round  and  round  his  small 


90  Miss  Billy 

body,  and  keeled  him  over  half  upon  his  back. 
There  he  blissfully  went  to  sleep. 

Billy  found  him  after  a  gleeful  following 
of  the  slender  woollen  trail.  Mrs.  Stetson 
was  with  her  —  but  she  was  not  gleeful. 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Hannah,  Aunt  Hannah, " 
gurgled  Billy,  "  isn't  he  just  too  cute  for 
anything?  " 

Aunt  Hannah  shook  her  head. 

"  I  must  confess  I  don't  see  it,"  she  de- 
clared. "  My  dear,  just  look  at  that  hopeless 
snarl !  ' ' 

"  Oh,  but  it  isn't  hopeless  at  all,"  laughed 
Billy.  "  It's  like  one  of  those  strings  they 
unwind  at  parties  with  a  present  at  the  end 
of  it.  And  Spunk  is  the  present, ' '  she  added, 
when  she  had  extricated  the  small  gray  cat. 
"  And  you  shall  hold  him,"  she  finished, 
graciously  entrusting  the  sleepy  kitten  to 
Mrs.  Stetson's  unwilling  arms. 

"But,  I  — it  — I  can't  — Billy!  I  don't 
like  that  name,"  blurted  out  the  indignant 
little  lady  with  as  much  warmth  as  she  ever 
allowed  herself  to  show.  "  It  must  be 
changed  to  —  to  *  Thomas.'  " 


Bertram  Has  Visitors  91 


" 


Changed?  Spunk's  name  changed?  " 
demanded  Billy,  in  a  horrified  voice.  '  '  Why, 
Aunt  Hannah,  it  can't  be  changed;  it's  his, 
you  know."  Then  she  laughed  merrily. 
*  '  '  Thomas,  '  indeed  !  Why,  you  old  dear  !  — 
just  suppose  I  should  ask  you  to  change  your 
name  !  Now  /  like  '  Helen  Clarabella  '  lots 
better  than  ;  Hannah,'  but  I'm  not  going  to 
ask  you  to  change  that  —  and  I'm  going  to 
love  you  just  as  well,  even  if  you  are 
1  Hannah  '  —  see  if  I  don't  !  And  you'll  love 
Spunk,  too,  I'm  sure  you  will.  Now  watch 
me  find  the  end  of  this  snarl!  '  And  she 
danced  over  to  the  dumbfounded  little  lady 
in  the  big  chair,  gave  her  an  affectionate 
kiss,  and  then  attacked  the  tangled  mass  of 
black  with  skilful  fingers. 

1  '  But,  I  —  you  —  oh,  my  grief  and  con- 
science! '  finished  the  little  woman  whose 
name  was  not  Helen  Clarabella.  —  '  *  Oh,  my 
grief  and  conscience,  '  '  according  to  Bertram, 
was  Aunt  Hannah's  deadliest  swear-word. 

In  Aunt  Hannah's  black  silk  lap  Spunk 
stretched  luxuriously,  and  blinked  sleepy 
eyes;  then  with'  a  long  purr  of  content  he 


92  Miss  Billy 

curled  himself  for  another  nap  —  still 
Spunk. 

It  was  some  time  after  luncheon  that  day 
that  Bertram  heard  a  knock  at  his  studio 
door.  Bertram  was  busy.  His  particular 
pet  "  Face  of  a  Girl  "  was  to  be  submitted 
soon  to  the  judges  of  a  forthcoming  Art  Ex- 
hibition, and  it  was  not  yet  finished.  He  was 
trying  to  make  up  now  for  the  many  hours 
lost  during  the  last  few  days;  and  even 
Bertram,  at  times,  did  not  like  interrup- 
tions. His  model  had  gone,  but  he  was 
still  working  rapidly  when  the  knock  came. 
His  tone  was  not  quite  cordial  when  he  an- 
swered. 

"  Well?  " 

"It's  I  —  Spunk  and  I.  May  we  come 
in  7  "  called  a  confident  voice. 

Bertram  said  a  sharp  word  behind  his 
teeth  —  but  he  opened  the  door. 

"  Of  course!  I  was  —  painting/'  he  an- 
nounced. 

"  How  lovely!  And  I'll  watch  you.  Ohj 
—  what  a  pretty  room !  " 

"I'm  glad  you  like  it." 


Bertram  Has  Visitors  93 

"  Indeed  I  do;  I  like  it  ever  so  much.  I 
shall  stay  here  lots,  I  know." 

"  Oh,  you  —  will!  "  For  once  even  Ber- 
tram's ready  tongue  failed  to  find  fitting 
response. 

11  Yes.  Now  paint.  I  want  to  see  you. 
Aunt  Hannah  has  gone  out  anyway,  and  I'm 
lonesome.  I  think  I'll  stay." 

"  But  I  can't  —  that  is,  I'm  not  used  to 
spectators." 

"  Of  course  you  aren't,  you  poor  old  lone- 
someness !  But  it  isn't  going  to  be  that  way, 
any  more,  you  know,  now  that  I've  come.  I 
sha'n't  let  you  be  lonesome." 

"  I  could  swear  to  that,"  declared  the  man, 
with  sudden  fervor;  and  for  Billy's  peace 
of  mind  it  was  just  as  well,  perhaps,  that 
she  did  not  know  the  exact  source  of  that 
fervency. 

"  Now  paint,"  commanded  Billy  again. 

Because  he  did  not  know  what  else  to  do, 
Bertram  picked  up  a  brush;  but  he  did  not 
paint.  The  first  stroke  of  his  brush  against 
the  canvas  was  to  Spunk  a  challenge;  and 
Spunk  never  refused  a  challenge.  "With  a 


94  Miss  Billy 

bound  lie  was  on  Bertram's  knee,  gleeful 
paw  outstretched,  batting  at  the  end  of  the 
brush. 

"  Tut,  tut  —  no,  no  —  naughty  Spunk! 
Say,  but  wasn't  that  cute?  "  chuckled  Billy. 
1 1  Do  it  again !  ' ' 

The  artist  gave  an  exasperated  sigh. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  he  protested,  "  cruel  as 
it  may  seem  to  you,  this  picture  is  not  a  kin- 
dergarten game  for  the  edification  of  small 
cats.  I  must  politely  ask  Spunk  to  desist. ' ' 

11  But  he  won't!  "  laughed  Billy.  "  Never 
mind;  we  will  take  it  some  day  when  he's 
asleep.  Let's  not  paint  any  more,  anyhow. 
I've  come  to  see  your  rooms."  And  she 
sprang  blithely  to  her  feet.  "  Dear,  dear, 
what  a  lot  of  faces !  —  and  all  girls,  too ! 
How  funny!  Why  don't  you  paint  other 
things!  Still,  they  are  rather  nice." 

"  Thank  you,"  accepted  Bertram,  dryly. 

Bertram  did  not  paint  any  more  that  after- 
noon. Billy  found  much  to  interest  her,  and 
she  asked  numberless  questions.  She  was 
greatly  excited  when  she  understood  the  full 
significance  of  the  omnipresent  "  Face  of  a 


Bertram  Has  Visitors  95 

Girl  ";  and  she  graciously  offered  to  pose 
herself  for  the  artist.  She  spent,  indeed, 
quite  half  an  hour  turning  her  head  from 
side  to  side,  and  demanding  "  Now  how's 
that?  — and  that?  "  Tiring  at  last  of  this, 
she  suggested  Spunk  as  a  substitute,  remark- 
ing that,  after  all,  cats  —  pretty  cats  like 
Spunk  —  were  even  nicer  to  paint  than  girls. 

She  rescued  Spunk  then  from  the  paint-box 
where  he  had  been  holding  high  carnival  with 
Bertram's  tubes  of  paint,  and  demanded  if 
Bertram  ever  saw  a  more  delightful,  more 
entrancing,  more  altogether-to-be-desired 
model.  She  was  so  artless,  so  merry,  so 
frankly  charmed  with  it  all  that  Bertram 
could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  be  angry, 
notwithstanding  his  annoyance.  But  when 
at  four  o'clock,  she  took  herself  and  her  cat 
cheerily  up-stairs,  he  lifted  his  hands  in 
despair. 

"  Great  Scott!  "  he  groaned.  "  If  this 
is  a  sample  of  what's  coming  —  I'm  going, 
that's  all!" 


CHAPTER  XII 

CYKIL   TAKES   HIS    TUBN 

BILLY  had  been  a  member  of  the  Beacon 
Street  household  a  week  before  she  repeated 
her  visit  to  Cyril  at  the  top  of  the  house. 
This  time  Bertram  was  not  with  her.  She 
went  alone.  Even  Spunk  was  left  behind  - 
Billy  remembered  her  prospective  host's 
aversion  to  cats. 

Billy  did  not  feel  that  she  knew  Cyril  very 
well.  She  had  tried  several  times  to  chat 
with  him;  but  she  had  made  so  little  head- 
way, that  she  finally  came  to  the  conclusion 
—  privately  expressed  to  Bertram  —  that 
Mr.  Cyril  was  bashful.  Bertram  had  only 
laughed.  He  had  laughed  the  harder  because 
at  that  moment  he  could  hear  Cyril  pounding 
out  his  angry  annoyance  on  the  piano  up- 
stairs —  Cyril  had  just  escaped  from  one  of 
Billy's  most  determined  "  attempts,"  and 


Cyril  Takes  His  Turn  97 

Bertram  knew  it.  Bertram's  laugh  had 
puzzled  Billy  —  and  it  had  not  quite  pleased 
her.  Hence  to-day  she  did  not  tell  him  of 
her  plan  to  go  up-stairs  and  see  what  she 
could  do  herself,  alone,  to  combat  this 
"  foolish  bashfulness  "  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Cyril  Henshaw. 

In  spite  of  her  bravery,  Billy  waited  quite 
one  whole  minute  at  the  top  of  the  stairs 
before  she  had  the  courage  to  knock  at 
Cyril's  door. 

The  door  was  opened  at  once. 

"Why  —  Billy!"  cried  the  man  in 
surprise. 

"  Yes,  it's  Billy.  I  —  I  came  up  to  —  to 
get  acquainted,"  she  smiled  winningly. 

*  *  Why,  er  —  you  are  very  kind.  Will  you 
—  come  in  ?  " 

"  Thank  you;  yes.  You  see,  I  didn't  bring 
Spunk.  I  —  remembered. ' ' 

Cyril  bowed  gravely. 

"  You  are  very  kind  —  again,"  he  said. 

Billy  fidgeted  in  her  chair.  To  her  mind 
she  was  not  "  getting  on  "  at  all.  She  de- 
termined on  a  bold  stroke. 


98  Miss  Billy 

' '  You  see,  I  thought  if  —  if  I  should  come 
up  here,  where  there  wouldn't  be  so  many 
around,  we  might  get  acquainted,"  she  con- 
fided; "  then  I  would  get  to  like  you  just 
as  well  as  I  do  the  others." 

At  the  odd  look  that  came  into  the  man's 
face,  the  girl  realized  suddenly  what  she  had 
said.  Her  cheeks  flushed  a  confused  red. 

' '  Oh,  dear !  That  is,  I  mean  —  I  like  you, 
of  course,"  she  floundered  miserably;  then 
she  broke  off  with  a  frank  laugh.  i '  There ! 
you  see  I  never  could  get  out  of  anything.  I 
might  as  well  own  right  up.  I  don't  like  you 
as  well  as  I  do  Uncle  William  and  Mr.  Ber- 
tram. So  there!  " 

Cyril  laughed.  For  the  first  time  since  he 
had  seen  Billy,  something  that  was  very  like 
interest  came  into  his  eyes. 

"  Oh,  you  don't,"  he  retorted.  "  Now 
that  is  —  er  —  very  unkind  of  you." 

Billy  shook  her  head. 

11  You  don't  say  that  as  if  you  meant  it," 
she  accused  him,  her  eyes  gravely  studying 
his  face.  "  Now  I'm  in  earnest.  7  really 
want  to  like  you!  " 


Cyril  Takes  His  Turn  99 

"  Thank  you.  Then  perhaps  you  won't 
mind  telling  me  why  you  don't  like  me,"  he 
suggested. 

Again  Billy  flushed. 

"  Why,  I  — I  just  don't;  that's  all,"  she 
faltered.  Then  she  cried  aggrievedly: 
"  There,  now!  you've  made  me  be  impolite; 
and  I  didn't  mean  to  be,  truly." 

"  Of  course  not,"  assented  the  man;  "  and 
it  wasn't  impolite,  because  I  asked  you  for 
the  information,  you  know.  I  may  conclude 
then,"  he  went  on  with  an  odd  twinkle  in  his 
eyes,  "  that  I  am  merely  classed  with  tripe 
and  rainy  days." 

"  With  —  wha-at?  " 

"  Tripe  and  rainy  days.  Those  are  the 
only  things,  if  I  remember  rightly,  that  you 
don't  like." 

The  girl  stared ;  then  she  chuckled. 

"  There!  I  knew  I'd  like  you  better  if 
you'd  only  say  something,"  she  beamed. 
"  But  let's  not  talk  any  more  about  that. 
Play  to  me;  won't  you?  You  know  you 
promised  me  '  The  Maiden's  Prayer.'  " 

Cyril  stiffened. 


100  Miss  Billy 

"  Pardon  me,  but  you  must  be  mistaken," 
he  replied  coldly.  "  I  do  not  play  '  The 
Maiden's  Prayer.' 

11  Oh,  what  a  shame!  And  I  do  so  love  it! 
But  you  play  other  things;  I've  heard  you 
a  little,  and  Mr.  Bertram  says  you  do  —  in 
concerts  and  things." 

11  Does  he?  "  murmured  Cyril,  with  a 
slight  lifting  of  his  eyebrows. 

' '  There !  Now  off  you  go  again  all  silent 
and  horrid!  "  chaffed  Billy.  "  What  have 
I  said  now?  Mr.  Cyril  —  do  you  know  what 
I  think?  I  believe  you've  got  nerves! ' 
Billy's  voice  was  so  tragic  that  the  man  could 
but  laugh. 

"  Perhaps  I  have,  Miss  Billy." 

"  Like  Miss  Letty's?  " 

"  I'm  not  acquainted  with  the  lady." 

"  Gee!  wouldn't  you  two  make  a  pair!  " 
chuckled  Billy  unexpectedly.  ''No;  but, 
really,  I  mean  —  do  you  want  people  to  walk 
on  tiptoe  and  speak  in  whispers?  " 

"  Sometimes,  perhaps." 

The  girl  sprang  to  her  feet  —  but  she 
sighed. 


Cyril  Takes  His  Turn  101 

"  Then  I'm  going.  This  might  be  one  of 
the  times,  you  know."  She  hesitated,  then 
walked  to  the  piano.  "  My,  wouldn't  I  like 
to  play  on  that !  ' '  she  breathed. 

Cyril  shuddered.  Cyril  could  imagine 
what  Billy  would  play  —  and  Cyril  did  not 
like  "  rag-time,"  nor  "  The  Storm." 

"  Oh,  do  you  play  I  "  he  asked  con- 
strainedly. 

Billy  shook  her  head. 

' '  Not  much.  Only  little  bits  of  things,  you 
know,"  she  said  wistfully,  as  she  turned  to- 
ward the  door. 

For  some  minutes  after  she  had  gone,  Cyril 
stood  where  she  had  left  him,  his  eyes  moody 
and  troubled. 

"*  *  I  suppose  I  might  have  played  —  some- 
thing, ' '  he  muttered  at  last ;  ' '  but  —  *  The 
Maiden's  Prayer  ' !  —  good  heavens !  " 

Billy  was  a  little  shy  with  Cyril  when  he 
came  down  to  dinner  that  night.  For  the 
next  few  days,  indeed,  she  held  herself  very 
obviously  aloof  from  him.  Cyril  caught  him- 
self wondering  once  if  she  were  afraid  of  his 
"  nerves."  He  did  not  try  to  find  out,  how- 


102  Miss  Billy 

ever;  he  was  too  emphatically  content  that 
of  her  ©wn  accord  she  seemed  to  be  leaving 
him  in  peace. 

It  must  have  been  a  week  after  Billy 's  visit 
to  the  top  of  the  house  that  Cyril  stopped  hie 
playing  very  abruptly  one  day,  and  opened 
his  door  to  go  down-stairs.  At  the  first  step 
he  started  back  in  amazement. 

"  Why,  Billy!  "  he  ejaculated. 

The  girl  was  sitting  very  near  the  top  of 
the  stairway.  At  his  appearance  she  got  to 
her  feet  shamefacedly. 

"  Why,  Billy,  what  in  the  world  are  you 
doing  there?  " 

"  Listening." 

"  Listening!  " 

"  Yes.    Do  you  mind?  " 

The  man  did  not  answer.  He  was  too  sur- 
prised to  find  words  at  once,  and  he  was  try- 
ing to  recollect  what  he  had  been  playing. 

"  You  see,  listening  to  music  this  way  isn't 
like  listening  to  —  to  talking,"  hurried  on 
Billy,  feverishly.  "  It  isn't  sneaking  like 
tnat;  is  it?  " 

""Why  — no." 


Cyril  Takes  His  Turn          103 

"  And  you  don't  mind?  " 

1 1  Why,  surely,  I  ought  not  to  mind  — 
that,"  he  admitted. 

"  Then  I  can  keep  right  on  as  I  have  done. 
Thank  you,"  sighed  Billy,  in  relief. 

"  Keep  right  on!  Have  you  been  here 
before?  " 

"  Why,  yes,  lots  of  days.  And,  say,  Mr. 
Cyril,  what  is  that  —  that  thing  that's  all 
chords  with  big  bass  notes  that  keep  saying 
something  so  fine  and  splendid  that  it  marches 
on  and  on,  getting  bigger  and  grander,  just 
as  if  there  couldn't  anything  stop  it,  until  it 
all  ends  in  one  great  burst  of  triumph?  Mr. 
Cyril,  what  is  that?  " 

< «  Why,  Billy !  "  —  the  interest  this  time  in 
the  man's  face  was  not  faint  —  "  I  wish  I 
might  make  others  catch  my  meaning  as  I 
have  evidently  made  you  do  it !  That's  some- 
thing of  my  own  —  that  I'm  writing,  you  un- 
derstand; and  I've  tried  to  say  —  just  what 
you  say  you  heard." 

"  And  I  did  hear  it  — I  did!  Oh,  won't 
you  play  it,  please,  with  the  door  open?  " 

"  I  can't,  Billy.    I'm  sorry,  indeed  I  am, 


104  Miss  Billy 

But  I've  an  appointment,  and  I'm  late  now. 
You  shall  hear  it,  though,  I  promise  you,  and 
with  the  door  wide  open, ' '  continued  the  man, 
as,  with  a  murmured  apology,  he  passed  the 
girl  and  hurried  down  the  stairs. 

Billy  waited  until  she  heard  the  outer  hall 
door  shut ;  then  very  softly  she  crept  through 
Cyril's  open  doorway,  and  crossed  the  room 
to  the  piano. 


CHAPTER  Xin 

A  SURPRISE   ALL   AROUND 

MAY  came,  and  with  it  warm  sunny  days. 
There  was  a  little  balcony  at  the  rear  of  the 
second  floor,  and  on  this  Mrs.  Stetson  and 
Billy  gat  many  a  morning  and  sewed.  There 
were  occupations  that  Billy  liked  better  than 
sewing;  but  she  was  dutiful,  and  she  was 
really  fond  of  Aunt  Hannah ;  so  she  accepted 
as  gracefully  as  possible  that  good  lady's 
dictum  that  a  woman  who  could  not  sew,  and 
sew  well,  was  no  lady  at  all. 

One  of  the  things  that  Billy  liked  to  do  so 
much  better  than  to  sew  was  to  play  on 
Cyril's  piano.  She  was  very  careful,  how- 
ever, that  Mr.  Cyril  himself  did  not  find  this 
out.  Cyril  was  frequently  gone  from  the 
house,  and  almost  as  frequently  Aunt 
Hannah  took  naps.  At  such  times  it  was 
very  easy  to  slip  up-stairs  to  Cyril's  rooms, 

105 


106  Miss  Billy 

and  once  at  the  piano,  Billy  forgot  everything 
else. 

One  day,  however,  the  inevitable  happened : 
Cyril  came  home  unexpectedly.  The  man 
heard  the  piano  from  William's  floor,  and 
with  a  surprised  ejaculation  he  hurried  up- 
stairs two  steps  at  a  time.  At  the  door  he 
stopped  in  amazement. 

Billy  was  at  the  piano,  but  she  was  no{ 
playing  "  rag-time,"  "  The  Storm,"  nor  yet 
"  The  Maiden's  Prayer."  There  was  no 
music  before  her,  but  under  her  fingers  '  *  big 
bass  notes  "  very  much  like  Cyril's  own, 
were  marching  on  and  on  to  victory. 
Billy's  face  was  rapturously  inteut  and 
happy. 

I  *  By  Jove  —  Billy !  ' '  gasped  the  man. 
Billy  leaped  to  her  feet  and  whirled  around 

guiltily. 

II  Oh,  Mr.  Cyril  — I'm  so  sorry!  " 

"  Sorry!  —  and  you  play  like  that!  ' 
"  No,  no;    I'm  not  sorry  I  played.    It's 

because  you  —  found  me." 

Billy's  cheeks  were  a  shamed  red,  but  her 

eyes  were  defiantly  brilliant,  and  her  chin 


A  Surprise  All  Around         107 

was  at  a  rebellious  tilt.  "  I  wasn't  doing  any 
—  harm;  not  if  you  weren't  here —  with 
your  nerves! ' 

The  man  laughed  and  came  slowly  into  the 
room. 

"  Billy,  who  taught  you  to  play?  " 

"  No  one.  I  can't  play.  I  can  only  pick 
out  little  bits  of  things  in  C." 

"  But  you  do  play.    I  just  heard  you." 

Billy  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  That  was  nothing.  It  was  only  what  I 
had  heard.  I  was  trying  to  make  it  sound 
like  —  yours." 

11  And,  by  George!  you  succeeded,"  mut- 
tered Cyril  under  his  breath;  then  aloud 
he  asked:  "  Didn't  you  ever  study  mu- 
sic? " 

Billy's  eyes  dimmed. 

11  No,  That  was  the  only  thing  Aunt  Ella 
and  I  didn't  think  alike  about.  She  had  an 
old  square  piano,  all  tin-panny  and  thin,  you 
know.  I  played  some  on  it,  and  wanted  to 
take  lessons;  but  I  didn't  want  to  practise 
on  that.  I  wanted  a  new  one.  That's  what 
she  wouldn't  do  —  get  me  a  new  piano,  or  let 


108  Miss  Billy 

me  do  it.  She  said  she  practised  on  that 
piano,  and  that  it  was  quite  good  enough  for 
me,  especially  to  learn  on.  I  —  I  'm  afraid  I 
got  stuffy.  I  hated  that  piano  so!  But  I 
was  almost  ready  to  give  in  when  —  when 
Aunt  Ella  died." 

"  And  all  you  play  then  is  just  by  ear?  ' 

"  By  —  ear?  I  suppose  so  —  if  you  mean 
what  I  hear.  Easy  things  I  can  play  quick, 
but  —  but  those  chords  are  hard;  they  skip 
around  so !  " 

Cyril  smiled  oddly. 

"  I  should  say  so,"  he  agreed.    "  But  per- 
haps there  is  something  else  that  I  play- 
that  you  like.    Is  there!  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  Now  there's  that  little  thing 
that  swings  and  sways  like  this, ' '  cried  Billy, 
dropping  herself  on  to  the  piano  stool  and 
whisking  about.  Billy  was  not  afraid  now, 
nor  defiant.  She  was  only  eager  and  happy 
again.  In  a  moment  a  dreamy  waltz  fell 
upon  Cyril's  ears  —  a  waltz  that  he  often 
played  himself.  It  was  not  played  correctly, 
it  is  true.  There  were  notes,  and  sometimes 
whole  measures,  that  were  very  different 


A  Surprise  All  Around         109 

from  the  printed  music.  But  the  tune,  the 
rhythm,  and  the  spirit  were  there. 

"  And  there's  this,"  said  Billy;  "  and 
this,"  she  went  on,  sliding  into  one  little 
strain  after  another  —  all  of  which  were 
recognized  by  the  amazed  man  at  her  side. 

"  Billy,"  he  cried,  when  she  had  finished 
and  whirled  upon  him  again,  "  Billy,  would 
you  like  to  learn  to  play  —  really  play  from 
notes?  " 

"Oh,  wouldn't  I!" 

* '  Then  you  shall !  We  '11  have  a  piano  to- 
morrow in  your  rooms  for  you  to  practise  on. 
And  —  I'll  teach  you  myself." 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  Mr.  Cyril  —  you  don't 
know  how  I  thank  you!  "  exulted  Billy,  as 
she  danced  from  the  room  to  tell  Aunt 
Hannah  of  this  great  and  good  thing  that 
had  come  into  her  life. 

To  Billy,  this  promise  of  Cyril's  to  be  her 
teacher  was  very  kind,  very  delightful;  but 
it  was  not  in  the  least  a  thing  at  which  to 
marvel.  To  Bertram,  however,  it  most  cer- 
tainly was. 

"Well,  guess  what's  happened,"  he  said 


110  Miss  Billy 

to  William  that  night,  after  he  had  heard  the 
news.  "I'll  believe  anything  now  —  any- 
thing: that  you'll  raffle  off  your  collection  of 
teapots  at  the  next  church  fair,  or  that  I  shall 
go  to  Egypt  as  a  '  Cooky  '  guide.  Listen; 
Cyril  is  going  to  give  piano  lessons  to  Billy ! 
—  Cyril!" 


CHAPTER  XIV 

AUNT   HANNAH   SPEAKS   HER   MIND 

BERTRAM  said  that  the  Strata  was  not  a 
strata  any  longer.  He  declared  that  between 
them,  Billy  and  Spunk  had  caused  such  an 
upheaval  that  there  was  no  telling  where 
one  stratum  left  off  and  another  began. 
What  Billy  had  not  attended  to,  Spunk  had, 
he  said. 

"  You  see,  it's  like  this,"  he  explained  to 
an  amused  friend  one  day.  "  Billy  is  taking 
piano  lessons  of  Cyril,  and  she  is  posing  for 
one  of  my  heads.  Naturally,  then,  such 
feminine  belongings  as  fancy-work,  thread, 
thimbles,  and  hairpins  are  due  to  show  up 
at  any  time  either  in  Cyril's  apartments  or 
mine  —  to  say  nothing  of  William's;  and 
she's  in  William's  lots  —  to  look  for  Spunk, 
if  for  no  other  purpose. 

"  You  must  know  that  Spunk  likes  Wili- 
W 


112  Miss  Billy 

iam's  floor  the  best  of  the  bunch,  there  are  so 
many  delightful  things  to  play  with.  Not 
that  Spunk  stays  there  —  dear  me,  no.  He's 
a  sociable  little  chap,  and  his  usual  course  is 
to  pounce  on  a  shelf,  knock  off  some  object 
that  tickles  his  fancy,  then  lug  it  in  his  mouth 
to  —  well,  anywhere  that  he  happens  to  feel 
like  going.  Cyril  has  found  him  up-stairs 
with  a  small  miniature,  battered  and  chewed 
almost  beyond  recognition.  And  Aunt 
Hannah  nearly  had  a  fit  one  day  when  he 
appeared  in  her  room  with  an  enormous 
hard-shelled  black  bug  —  dead,  of  course - 
that  he  had  fished  from  a  case  that  Pete  had 
left  open.  As  for  me,  I  can  swear  that  the 
little  round  white  stone  he  was  playing  with 
in  my  part  of  the  house  was  one  of  "William's 
Collection  Number  One. 

"  And  that  isn't  all,"  Bertram  continued. 
* '  Billy  brings  her  music  down  to  show  to  me, 
and  lugs  my  heads  all  over  the  rest  of  the 
house  to  show  to  other  folks.  And  there  is 
always  everywhere  a  knit  shawl,  for  Aunt 
Hannah  is  sure  to  feel  a  draught,  and  Billy 
keeps  shawls  handy.  So  there  yen  are!  We 


Aunt  Hannah  Speaks  Her  Mind  113 

certainly  aren't  a  strata  any  longer,"  he 
finished. 

Billy  was,  indeed,  very  much  at  home  in 
the  Beacon  Street  house  —  too  much  so, 
Aunt  Hannah  thought.  Aunt  Hannah  was, 
in  fact,  seriously  disturbed.  To  William 
one  evening,  late  in  May,  she  spoke  her 
mind. 

"  William,  what  are  you  going  to  do  with 
Billy?  "  she  asked  abruptly. 

4 '  Do  with  her  ?  What  do  you  mean  ?  ' '  re- 
turned William  with  the  contented  smile  that 
was  so  often  on  his  lips  these  days.  "  This 
is  Billy's  home." 

"  That's  the  worst  of  it,"  sighed  the 
woman,  with  a  shake  of  her  head. 

1 '  The  worst  of  it !  Aunt  Hannah,  what  do 
you  mean  ?  Don 't  you  like  Billy  ?  ' ' 

"  Yes,  yes,  William,  of  course  I  like  Billy. 
I  love  her!  Who  could  help  it?  That's  not 
what  I  mean.  It's  of  Billy  I'm  thinking,  and 
of  the  rest  of  you.  She  can't  stay  here  like 
this.  She  must  go  away,  to  school,  or  —  or 
somewhere." 

"  And  she's  going  in  September,"  replied 


114  Miss  Billy 

the  man.  "  She'll  go  to  preparatory  school 
first,  and  to  college,  probably." 

' '  Yes,  but  now  —  right  away.  She  ought 
to  go  —  somewhere. ' ' 

11  Why,  yes,  for  the  summer,  of  course. 
But  those  plans  aren't  completed  yet.  Billy 
and  I  were  talking  of  it  last  evening.  You 
know  the  boys  are  always  away  more  or  less, 
but  I  seldom  go  until  August,  and  we  let 
Pete  and  Dong  Ling  off  then  for  a  month 
and  close  the  house.  I  told  Billy  I'd  send 
you  and  her  anywhere  she  liked  for  the  whole 
summer,  but  she  says  no.  She  prefers  to 
stay  here  with  me.  But  I  don't  quite  fancy 
that  idea  —  through  all  the  hot  June  and 
July —  so  I  don't  know  but  I'll  get  a  cottage 
somewhere  near  at  one  of  the  beaches,  where 
I  can  run  back  and  forth  night  and  morning. 
Of  course,  in  that  case,  we  take  Pete  and 
Dong  Ling  with  us  and  close  the  house  right 
away.  I  fear  Cyril  would  not  fancy  it  much ; 
but,  after  all,  he  and  Bertram  would  be  off 
more  or  less.  They  always  are  in  the  sum- 
mer." 

"But,  William,  you  haven't  yet  got  my 


Aunt  Hannah  Speaks  Her  Mind    115 

idea  at  all,"  demurred  Aunt  Hannah,  with  a 
discouraged  shake  of  her  head.  "  It's 
away!  —  away  from  all  this  —  from  you  — 
that  I  want  to  get  Billy." 

"  Away!  Away  from  me,"  cried  the  man, 
with  an  odd  intonation  of  terror,  as  he  started 
forward  in  his  chair.  "  Why,  Aunt  Hannah, 
what  are  you  talking  about?  ' 

"  About  Billy.  This  is  no  place  in  which 
to  bring  up  a  young  girl  —  a  young  girl  who 
has  not  one  shred  of  relationship  to  excuse 
it." 

' '  But  she  is  my  namesake,  and  quite  alone 
in  the  world,  Aunt  Hannah;  quite  alone  — 
poor  child!  " 

' '  My  dear  William,  that  is  exactly  it  —  she 
is  a  child,  and  yet  she  is  not.  That's  where 
the  trouble  lies." 

"  What  do  you  mean!  " 

"  William,  Billy  has  been  brought  up  in  a 
little  country  town  with  a  spinster  aunt  and  a 
whole  good-natured,  tolerant  village  for  com- 
pany. Well,  she  has  accepted  you  and  your 
entire  household,  even  down  to  Dong  Ling, 
on  the  same  basis." 


116  Miss  Billy 

"  Well,  I'm  sure  I'm  glad,"  asserted  the 
man  with  genial  warmth.  "  It's  good  for  us 
to  have  her  here.  It's  good  for  the  boys. 
She's  already  livened  Cyril  up  and  toned 
Bertram  down.  I  may  as  well  confess,  Aunt 
Hannah,  that  I've  been  more  than  a  little 
disturbed  about  Bertram  of  late.  I  don't 
like  that  Bob  Seaver  that  he  is  so  fond  of; 
and  some  other  fellows,  too,  that  have  been 
coming  here  altogether  too  much  during  the 
last  year.  Bertram  says  they're  only  a  little 
'  Bohemian  '  in  their  tastes.  And  to  me 
that's  the  worst  of  it,  for  Bertram  himself  is 
quite  too  much  inclined  that  way. ' ' 

"  Exactly,  William.  And  that  only  goes 
to  prove  what  I  said  before.  Bertram  is  not 
a  spinster  aunt,  and  neither  are  any  of  the 
rest  of  you.  But  Billy  takes  you  that 
way. ' ' 

4 '  Takes  us  that  way  —  as  spinster  aunts !  ' 

"  Yes.  She  makes  herself  as  free  in  this 
house  as  she  was  in  her  Aunt  Ella's  at 
Hampden  Falls.  She  flies  up  to  Cyril's  rooms 
half  a  dozen  times  a  day  with  some  question 
about  her  lessons;  and  I  don't  know  how 


Aunt  Hannah  Speaks  Her  Mind  117 

long  she'd  sit  at  his  feet  and  adoringly  listen 
to  his  playing  if  he  didn't  sometimes  get  out 
of  patience  and  tell  her  to  go  and  practise 
herself.  She  makes  nothing  of  tripping  into 
Bertram's  studio  at  all  hours  of  the  day; 
and  he's  sketched  her  head  at  every  conceiv- 
able angle  —  which  certainly  doesn't  tend  to 
make  Billy  modest  or  retiring.  As  to  you  — 
you  know  how  much  she's  in  your  rooms, 
spending  evening  after  evening  fussing  over 
your  collections." 

11  I  know;  but  we're  —  we're  sorting  them 
and  making  a  catalogue,"  defended  the  man, 
anxiously.  '  *  Besides,  I  —  I  like  to  have  her 
there.  She  doesn't  bother  me  a  bit." 

"No;  I  know  she  doesn't,"  replied  Aunt 
Hannah,  with  a  curious  inflection.  "  But 
don't  you  see,  "William,  that  all  this  isn't 
going  to  quite  do  1  Billy 's  too  young  —  and 
too  old." 

"  Come,  come,  Aunt  Hannah,  is  that  ex- 
actly logical?  " 

"  It's  true,  at  least." 

"  But,  after  all,  where 's  the  harm?  Don't 
you  think  that  you  are  just  a  little  bit  too  — 


118  Miss  Billy 

fastidious?     Billy's  nothing  but  a  care-free 
child." 

"  It's  the  '  free  '  part  that  I  object  to, 
William.  She  has  taken  every  one  of  you 
into  intimate  companionship  —  even  Pete  and 
Dong  Ling." 

11  Pete  and  Dong  Ling!  " 

"  Yes."  Mrs.  Stetson's  chin  came  up,  and 
her  nostrils  dilated  a  little.  "  Billy  went  to 
Pete  the  other  day  to  have  him  button  her 
shirt-waist  up  in  the  back;  and  yesterday  I 
found  her  down-stairs  in  the  kitchen  instruct- 
ing Dong  Ling  how  to  make  chocolate 
fudge!" 

William  fell  back  in  his  chair. 

11  Well,  well,"  he  muttered,  "  well,  well! 
She  is  a  child,  and  no  mistake !  ' '  He  paused, 
his  brows  drawn  into  a  troubled  frown. 
"  But,  Aunt  Hannah,  what  can  I  do?  Of 
course  you  could  talk  to  her,  but  —  I  don't 
seem  to  quite  like  that  idea." 

' '  My  grief  and  conscience  -—  no,  no !  That 
isn't  what  is  needed  at  all.  It  would  only 
serve  to  make  her  self-conscious;  and  that's 
her  one  salvation  now  —  that  she  isn't  self- 


Aunt  Hannah  Speaks  Her  Mind  119 

conscious.  You  see,  it's  only  the  fault  of  her 
environment  and  training,  after  all.  It  isn't 
her  heart  that's  wrong." 

"  Indeed  it  isn't!  " 

*  *  It  will  be  different  when  she  is  older  — 
when  she  has  seen  a  little  more  of  the  world 
outside  Hampden  Falls.  She'll  go  to  school, 
of  course,  and  I  think  she  ought  to  travel  a 
little.  Meanwhile,  she  mustn't  live  —  just 
like  this,  though ;  certainly  not  for  a  time,  at 
least." 

"  No,  no,  I'm  afraid  not,"  agreed  William, 
perplexedly,  rising  to  his  feet.  "  But  we 
must  think  —  what  can  be  done."  His  step 
was  even  slower  than  usual  as  he  left  the 
room,  and  his  eyes  were  troubled. 


CHAPTEE   XV 

WHAT    BERTKAM   CALLS    "  THE   LIMIT  " 

AT  half  past  ten  o  'clock  on  the  evening  fol- 
lowing Mrs.  Stetson's  very  plain  talk  with 
William,  the  telephone  bell  at  the  Beacon 
Street  house  rang  sharply.  Pete  answered 
it. 

11  Well!  "  —  Pete  never  said  "  hello." 

11  Hello.  Is  that  you,  Pete?  "  called 
Billy's  voice  agitatedly.  "  Is  Uncle  William 
there!  " 

11  No,  Miss  Billy." 

11  Oh  dear!    Well,  Mr.  Cyril,  then!  " 

"  He's  out,  too,  Miss  Billy.  And  Mr. 
Bertram  —  they're  all  out." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know  he's  out,"  almost 
sobbed  Billy.  ' '  Dear,  dear,  what  shall  I  do ! 
Pete,  you'll  have  to  come.  There  isn't  any 

other  way  I  " 

120 


"The  Limit" 


"  Yes,  Miss;  where?  "  Pete's  voice  was 
dubious,  but  respectful. 

*  '  To  the  Boylston  Street  subway  —  on  the 
Common,  you  know  —  North-bound  side.  I'll 
wait  for  you  —  but  hurry!  You  see,  I'm  all 
alone  here." 

"Alone!  Miss  Billy  —  in  the  subway  at 
this  time  of  night!  But,  Miss  Billy,  you 
shouldn't  —  you  can't  —  you  mustn't  —  " 
stuttered  the  old  man  in  helpless  horror. 

"  Yes,  yes,  Pete,  but  never  mind;  I  am 
here!  And  I  should  think  if  'twas  such  a 
dreadful  thing  you  would  hurry  fast  to  get 
here,  so  I  wouldn't  be  alone,"  appealed 
Billy. 

With  an  inarticulate  cry  Pete  jerked  the 
receiver  on  to  the  hook,  and  stumbled  away 
from  the  telephone.  Five  minutes  later  he 
had  left  the  house  and  was  hurrying  through 
the  Common  to  the  Boylston  Street  subway 
station. 

Billy,  a  long  cloak  thrown  over  her  white 
dress,  was  waiting  for  him.  Her  white  slip- 
pers tapped  the  platform  nervously,  and  her 
hair,  under  the  light  scarf  of  lace,  fluffed  into 


Miss  Billy 


little  broken  curls  as  if  it  had  been  blown  by 
the  wind. 

''Miss  Billy,  Miss  Billy,  what  can  this 
mean?  "  gasped  the  man.  "  Where  is  Mrs. 
Stetson?  " 

"  At  Mrs.  Hartwell's  —  you  know  she  is 
giving  a  reception  to-night.  But  come,  we 
must  hurry!  I'm  after  Mr.  Bertram." 

"  After  Mr.  Bertram!  " 

"  Yes,  yes." 

"Alone?  —  like  this?  " 

"  But  I'm  not  alone  now;  I  have  you. 
Don't  you  see?  " 

At  the  blank  stupefaction  in  the  man's 
face,  the  girl  sighed  impatiently. 

"  Dear  me  !  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  explain  ; 
but  we're  losing  time  —  and  we  mustn't  —  • 
we  mustn't!  "  she  cried  feverishly.  "  Listen 
then,  quick.  It  was  at  Mrs.  Hartwell's  to- 
night. I'd  been  watching  Mr.  Bertram.  He 
was  with  that  horrid  Mr.  Seaver,  and  I  never 
liked  him,  never!  I  overheard  something 
they  said,  about  some  place  they  were  going 
to,  and  I  didn't  like  what  Mr.  Seaver  said. 
I  tried  to  speak  to  Mr.  Bertram,  but  I  didn't 


"  The  Limit"  123 

get  a  chance ;  and  the  next  thing  I  knew  he  'd 
gone  with  that  Seaver  man !  I  saw  them  just 
in  time  to  snatch  my  cloak  and  follow  them. ' ' 

"  Follow  them!    Miss  Billy!  " 

11  I  had  to,  Pete;  don't  you  see?  There 
was  no  one  else.  Mr.  Cyril  and  Uncle  Will- 
iam had  gone  —  home,  I  supposed.  I  sent 
back  word  by  the  maid  to  Aunt  Hannah  that 
I'd  gone  ahead;  you  know  the  carriage  was 
ordered  for  eleven;  but  I'm  afraid  she  won't 
have  sense  to  tell  Aunt  Hannah,  she  looked 
so  dazed  and  frightened  when  I  told  her. 
But  I  couldn't  wait  to  say  more.  Well,  I  hur- 
ried out  and  caught  up  with  Mr.  Bertram  just 
as  they  were  crossing  Arlington  Street  to  the 
Garden.  I'd  heard  them  say  they  were 
going  to  walk,  so  I  knew  I  could  do  it.  But, 
Pete,  after  I  got  there,  I  didn't  dare  to  speak 
—  I  didn't  dare  to!  So  I  just  —  followed. 
They  went  straight  through  the  Garden  and 
across  the  Common  to  Tremont  Street,  and 
on  and  on  until  they  stopped  and  went  down 
some  stairs,  all  marble  and  lights  and  mir- 
rors. 'Twas  a  restaurant,  I  think.  I  saw 
just  where  it  was,  then  I  flew  back  here  to 


124  Miss  Billy 

telephone  for  Uncle  William,  I  knew  he 
could  do  something.  But  —  well,  you  know 
the  rest.  I  had  to  take  you.  Now  come, 
quick;  I'll  show  you." 

"  But,  Miss  Billy,  I  can't!  You  mustn't; 
it 's  impossible, ' '  chattered  old  Pete.  ' '  Come, 
let  me  take  ye  home,  Miss  Billy,  do!  ': 

'  *  Home  —  and  leave  Mr.  Bertram  with 
that  Seaver  man?  No,  no!" 

"  What  can  ye  do?  " 

"  Do?  I  can  get  him  to  come  home  with 
me,  of  course." 

The  old  man  made  a  despairing  gesture 
and  looked  about  him  as  if  for  help.  He  saw 
then  the  curious,  questioning  eyes  on  all 
sides;  and  with  a  quick  change  of  manner, 
he  touched  Miss  Billy's  arm. 

11  Yes;  we'll  go.  Come,"  he  apparently 
agreed.  But  once  outside  on  the  broad  ex- 
panse before  the  Subway  entrance  he  stopped 
again.  "  Miss  Billy,  please  come  home,"  he 
implored.  "  Ye  don't  know —  ye  can't  know 
what  yer  a-doin'!  " 

The  girl  tossed  her  hear!  She  was  angry 
now, 


"The  Limit" 


"  Pete,  if  you  will  not  go  with  me  I  shall 
go  alone.  I  am  not  afraid.  '  ' 

*  '  But  the  hour  —  the  place  —  you,  a  young 
girl  !  Miss  Billy  !  '  '  remonstrated  the  old  man 
agitatedly. 

"  It  isn't  so  very  late.  I've  been  out  lots 
of  times  later  than  this  at  home.  And  as  for 
the  place,  it's  all  light  and  bright,  and  lots 
of  people  were  going  in  —  ladies  and  gentle- 
men. Nothing  could  hurt  me,  Pete,  and  I 
shall  go;  but  I'd  rather  you  were  with  me. 
Why,  Pete,  we  mustn't  leave  him.  He  isn't 
—  he  isn't  himself,  Pete.  He  —  he's  been 
drinking!  '  Billy's  voice  broke,  and  her 
face  flushed  scarlet.  She  was  almost  cry- 
ing. "  Come,  you  won't  refuse  now!  ' 
she  finished,  resolutely  turning  toward  the 
street. 

And  because  old  Pete  could  not  pick  her 
up  bodily  and  carry  her  home,  he  followed 
close  at  her  heels.  At  the  head  of  the  marble 
stairs  "  all  lights  and  mirrors,"  however,  he 
made  one  last  plea. 

"  Miss  Billy,  once  more  I  beg  of  ye, 
won't  ye  come  home?  Ye  don't  know  what 


126  Miss  Billy 

yer  a-doin',  Miss  Billy,  ye  don't  —  ye 
don't!" 

"  I  can't  go  home,"  persisted  Billy.  "  I 
must  get  Mr.  Bertram  away  from  that  man. 
Now  come;  we'll  just  stand  at  the  door  and 
look  in  until  we  see  him.  Then  I'll  go 
straight  to  him  and  speak  to  him."  And 
with  that  she  turned  and  ran  down  the 
steps. 

Billy  blinked  a  little  at  the  lights  which,  re- 
flected in  the  great  plate-glass  mirrors,  were 
a  million  dazzling  points  that  found  them- 
selves again  repeated  in  the  sparkling  crys- 
tal and  glittering  silver  on  the  flower-decked 
tables.  All  about  her  Billy  saw  flushed-faced 
men,  and  bright-eyed  women,  laughing,  chat- 
ting, and  clinking  together  their  slender- 
stemmed  wine  glasses.  But  nowhere,  as  she 
looked  about  her,  could  Billy  descry  the  man 
she  sought. 

The  head  waiter  came  forward  with  up- 
lifted hand,  but  Billy  did  not  see  him.  A  girl 
at  her  left  laughed  disagreeably,  and  several 
men  stared  with  boldly  admiring  eyes ;  but 
to  them,  too,  Billy  paid  no  heed.  Then,  half- 


"The  Limit"  127 

way  across  the  room  she  spied  Bertram  and 
Seaver  sitting  together  at  a  small  table 
alone. 

Simultaneously  her  own  and  Bertram's 
eyes  met. 

With  a  sharp  word  under  his  breath  Ber- 
tram sprang  to  his  feet.  His  befogged  brain 
had  cleared  suddenly  under  the  shock  of 
Billy's  presence. 

"  Billy,  for  Heaven's  sake  what  are  you 
doing  here?  "  he  demanded  in  a  low  voice,  as 
he  reached  her  side. 

"  I  came  for  you.  I  want  you  to  go  home 
with  me,  please,  Mr.  Bertram,"  whispered 
Billy,  pleadingly. 

The  man  had  not  waited  for  an  answer  to 
his  question.  With  a  deft  touch  he  had 
turned  Billy  toward  the  door;  and  even  as 
she  finished  her  sentence  she  found  herself 
in  the  marble  hallway  confronting  Pete,  pal- 
lid-faced, and  shaking. 

' '  And  you,  too,  Pete !  Great  Scott !  what 
does  this  mean?  "  he  exploded  angrily. 

Pete  could  only  shake  his  head  and  glance 
imploringly  at  Billy.  His  dry  lips  and 


128  Miss  Billy 

tongue  refused  to  articulate  even  one 
word. 

'  *  We  came  —  for  —  you, ' '  choked  Billy. 
"  You  see,  I  don't  like  that  —  Seaver  man." 

1 1  Well,  by  Jove!  this  is  the  limit!  " 
breathed  Bertram. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

KATE   TAKES   A   HAND 

UNDENIABLY  Billy  was  in  disgrace,  and 
none  knew  it  better  than  Billy  herself.  The 
whole  family  had  contributed  to  this  knowl- 
edge. Aunt  Hannah  was  inexpressibly 
shocked;  she  had  not  breath  even  to  ejacu- 
late "  My  grief  and  conscience!  "  Kate  was 
disgusted;  Cyril  was  coldly  reserved;  Ber- 
tram was  frankly  angry;  even  William  was 
vexed,  and  showed  it.  Spunk,  too,  as  if  in 
league  with  the  rest,  took  this  opportunity  to 
display  one  of  his  occasional  fits  of  independ- 
ence; and  when  Billy,  longing  for  some  sort 
of  comfort,  called  him  to  her,  he  settled  back 
on  his  tiny  haunches  and  imperturbably 
winked  and  blinked  his  indifference. 

Nearly  all  the  family  had  had  something 
to  say  to  Billy  on  the  matter,  with  not  en- 
tirely satisfactory  results,  when  Kate  deter- 
129 


130  Miss  Billy 

mined  to  see  what  she  could  do.  She  chose 
a  time  when  she  could  have  the  girl  quite  to 
herself  with  small  likelihood  of  interrup- 
tion. 

"  But,  Billy,  how  could  you  do  such  an 
absurd  thing?  "  she  demanded.  "  The  idea 
of  leaving  my  house  alone,  at  half -past  ten 
at  night,  to  follow  a  couple  of  men  through 
the  streets  of  Boston,  and  then  with  my 
brothers'  butler  make  a  scene  like  that  in  a 
—  a  public  dining-room !  ' ' 

Billy  sighed  in  a  discouraged  way. 

"  Aunt  Kate,  can't  I  make  you  and  the  rest 
of  them  understand  that  I  didn't  start  out 
to  do  all  that?  I  meant  just  to  speak  to  Mr. 
Bertram,  and  get  him  away  from  that  man. ' ' 

"  But,  my  dear  child,  even  that  was  bad 
enough!  " 

Billy  lifted  her  chin. 

"  You  don't  seem  to  think,  Aunt  Kate; 
Mr.  Bertram  was  —  was  not  sober. ' ' 

1 '  All  the  more  reason  then  why  you  should 
not  have  done  what  you  did!  " 

"  Why,  Aunt  Kate,  you  wouldn't  leave  him 
alone  in  that  condition  with  that  man!  " 


Kate  Takes  a  Hand  131 

It  was  Mrs.  Hartwell's  turn  to  sigh. 

"  But,  Billy,"  she  contested,  wearily, 
"  can't  you  understand  that  it  wasn't 
your  place  to  interfere  —  you,  a  young 
girl?  " 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  see  what  difference  that 
makes.  I  was  the  only  one  that  could  do  it! 
Besides,  afterward,  I  did  try  to  get  some  one 
else,  Uncle  William  and  Mr.  Cyril.  But  when 
I  found  1  couldn't  get  them,  I  just  had  to  do 
it  alone  —  that  is,  with  Pete." 

"  Pete!  "  scoffed  Mrs.  Hartwell.  "  Pete, 
indeed!  " 

Billy's  head  came  up  with  a  jerk.  Billy 
was  very  angry  now. 

"  Aunt  Kate,  it  seems  I've  done  a  very 
terrible  thing,  but  I'm  sure  I  don't  see  it  that 
way.  I  wasn't  afraid,  and  I  wasn't  in  the 
least  bit  of  danger  anywhere.  I  knew  my 
way  perfectly,  and  I  did  not  make  any 
'  scene  '  in  that  restaurant.  I  just  asked 
Mr.  Bertram  to  come  home  with  me.  One 
would  think  yon  wanted  Mr.  Bertram  to  go 
off  with  that  man  and  —  and  drink  too  much. 
But  Uncle  William  hasn't  liked  him  before. 


132  Miss  Billy 

not  one  bit !  I  Ve  heard  him  talk  about  him 
—  that  Mr.  Seaver." 

Mrs.  Hartwell  raised  both  her  hands, 
palms  outward. 

"Billy,  it  is  useless  to  talk  with  you.  You 
are  quite  impossible.  It  is  even  worse  than 
I  expected !  ' '  she  cried,  with  wrathful  impa- 
tience. 

* '  Worse  than  you  —  expected  ?  What  do 
you  mean,  please  ?  ' ' 

' '  Worse  than  I  thought  it  would  be  —  be- 
fore you  came.  The  idea  of  those  five  men 
taking  a  girl  to  bring  up!  " 

Billy  sat  very  still.  She  was  even  holding 
her  breath,  though  Mrs.  Hartwell  did  not 
know  that. 

"You  mean  —  that  they  did  not  —  want 
me?  "  she  asked  quietly,  so  quietly  that  Mrs. 
Hartwell  did  not  realize  the  sudden  tension 
behind  the  words.  For  that  matter,  Mrs. 
Hartwell  was  too  angry  now  to  realize  any- 
thing outside  of  herself. 

* '  Want  you !  Billy,  it  is  Mgh  time  that 
you  understand  just  how  things  are,  and  have 
been,  at  the  house;  then  perhaps  you  will 


Kate  Takes  a  Hand  133 

conduct  yourself  with  an  eye  a  little  more  to 
other  people's  comfort.  Can  you  imagine 
three  young  men  like  my  brothers  wanting 
to  take  a  strange  young  woman  into  their 
home  to  upset  everything?  " 

"To  —  upset  —  everything!  "  echoed 
Billy,  faintly.  "  And  have  I  done  —  that?  " 

11  Of  course  you  have!  How  could  you 
help  it?  To  begin  with,  they  thought  you 
were  a  boy,  and  that  was  bad  enough;  but 
William  was  so  anxious  to  do  right  by  his 
dead  friend  that  he  insisted  upon  taking  you, 
much  against  the  will  of  all  the  rest  of  us. 
Oh,  I  know  this  isn't  pleasant  for  you  to 
hear,"  admitted  Mrs.  Hartwell,  in  response 
to  the  dismayed  expression  in  Billy's  eyes; 
"  but  I  think  it's  high  time  you  realize  some- 
thing of  what  those  men  have  sacrificed  for 
you.  Now,  to  resume.  When  they  found  you 
were  a  girl,  what  did  they  do  ?  Did  they  turn 
you  over  to  some  school  or  such  place,  as  they 
should  have  done?  Certainly  not!  William 
would  not  hear  of  it.  He  turned  Bertram  out 
of  his  rooms,  put  you  into  them,  and  estab- 
lished Aun*  Hannah  as  chaperon  and  me  as 


134  Miss  Billy 

substitute  until  she  arrived.  But  because, 
through  it  all,  he  smiled  blandly,  you  have 
been  blind  to  the  whole  thing. 

"  And  what  is  the  result?  His  entire 
household  routine  is  shattered  to  atoms. 
You  have  accepted  the  whole  house  as  if  it 
were  your  own.  You  take  Cyril's  time  to 
teach  you  music,  and  Bertram's  to  teach  JOTS. 
painting,  without  a  thought  of  what  it  means 
to  them.  There!  I  suppose  I  ought  not  to 
have  said  all  this,  but  I  couldn't  help  it,  Billy. 
And  surely  now,  now  yofc  appreciate  a  little 
more  what  your  coming  to  this  house  has 
meant,  and  what  my  brothers  have  done  for 
you. ' ' 

"  I  do,  certainly,"  said  Billy,  still  in  that 
voice  that  was  so  oddly  smooth  and  emotion- 
less. 

"  And  you'll  try  to  be  more  tractable,  less 
headstrong,  less  assertive  of  your  presence?  ' 

The  girl  sprang  to  her  feet  now. 

"  More  tractable!  Less  assertive  of  my 
presence!  "  she  cried.  "  Mrs.  Hartwell,  do 
you  mean  to  say  you  think  I'd  stay  after 
what  you've  told  me  I  " 


Kate  Takes  a  Hand  135 

"  Stay?  Why,  of  course  you'll  stay! 
Don't  be  silly,  child.  I  didn't  tell  you  this  to 
make  you  go.  I  only  wanted  you  to  under- 
stand how  things  were  —  and  are.'* 

"  And  I  do  understand  —  and  I'm  going." 

Mrs.  Hartwell  frowned.  Her  face  changed 
color. 

"  Come,  come,  Billy,  this  is  nonsense. 
William  wants  you  here.  He  would  never 
forgive  me  if  anything  I  said  should  send  you 
away.  You  must  not  be  angry  with  him." 

Billy  turned  now  like  an  enraged  little 
tigress. 

"  Angry  with  him!  Why,  I  love  him  —  I 
love  them  all!  They  are  the  dearest  men 
ever,  and  they've  been  so  good  to  me !  ':  The 
girl's  voice  broke  a  little,  then  went  on  with 
a  more  determined  ring.  "  Do  you  think  I'd 
have  them  know  why  I'm  going?  —  that  I'd 
hurt  them  like  that?  Never!  " 

"  But,  Billy,  what  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I've  got  to  plan  it  out.  I 
only  know  now  that  I'm  going,  sure!  '  And 
with  a  choking  little  cry  Billy  ran  from  the 
room. 


136  Miss  Billy 

In  her  own  chamber  a  minute  later  the 
tears  fell  unrestrained. 

"  It's  home  —  all  the  home  there  is  —  any- 
where! "  she  sobbed.  "  But  it's  got  to  go  — 
it's  got  to  go!  " 


CHAPTEE  XVII 

A   PINK  -  BIBBON   TBAIL 

MBS.  STETSON  wore  an  air  of  unmistakable 
relief  as  she  stepped  into  William's  sitting- 
room.  Even  her  knock  at  the  half-open  door 
had  sounded  almost  triumphant. 

"  William,  it  does  seem  as  if  Fate  itself 
had  intervened  to  help  us  out,'*  she  began 
delightedly.  ' '  Billy,  of  her  own  accord,  came 
to  me  this  morning,  and  said  that  she 
wanted  to  go  away  with  me  for  a  little 
trip.  So  you  see  that  will  make  it  easier 
for  us." 

"  Good!  That  is  fortunate,  indeed,"  cried 
V^illiam;  but  his  voice  did  not  carry  quite 
the  joy  that  his  words  expressed.  "  I  have 
been  disturbed  ever  since  your  remarks  the 
other  day,"  he  continued  wearily;  "  and  of 
course  her  extraordinary  escapade  the  next 
evening  did  not  help  matters  any.  It  is 

137 


138  Miss  Billy 

better,  I  know,  that  she  shouldn't  be  here- 
for  a  time.    Though  I  shall  miss  her  terribly. 
But,  tell  me,  what  is  it  —  what  does  she  want 
to  do?  " 

1 1  She  says  she  guesses  she  is  homesick  for 
Hampden  Falls;  that  she'd  like  to  go  back 
there  for  a  few  weeks  this  summer  if  I'll  go 
with  her.  The  —  the  dear  child  seems  sud- 
denly to  have  taken  a  great  fancy  to  me," 
explained  Aunt  Hannah,  unsteadily.  "  I 
never  saw  her  so  affectionate. ' ' 

' '  She  is  a  dear  girl  —  a  very  dear  girl ; 
and  she  has  a  warm  heart."  William  cleared 
his  throat  sonorously,  but  even  that  did  not 
clear  his  voice.  "  It  was  her  heart  that  led 
her  wrong  the  other  night,"  he  declared. 
' '  Hers  was  a  brave  and  fearless  act  —  but  a 
very  unwise  one.  Much  as  I  deplore  Ber- 
tram's intimacy  with  Seaver,  I  should 
hesitate  to  take  the  course  marked  out  by 
Billy.  Bertram  is  not  a  child.  But  tell  me 
more  of  this  trip  of  yours.  How  did  Billy 
happen  to  suggest  it?  ' 

"  I  don't  know.  I  noticed  yesterday  that 
she  seemed  strangely  silent  —  unhappy,  in 


A  Pink-Ribbon  Trail  139 

fact.  She  sat  alone  in  her  room  the  greater 
part  of  the  day,  and  I  could  not  get  her  out 
of  it.  But  this  morning  she  came  to  my  door 
as  bright  as  the  sun  itself  and  made  me  the 
proposition  I  told  you  of.  She  says  her 
aunt's  house  is  closed,  awaiting  its  sale;  but 
that  she  would  like  to  open  it  for  awhile  this 
summer,  if  I'd  like  to  go.  Naturally,  you  can 
understand  that  I'd  very  quickly  fall  in  with 
a  plan  like  that  —  one  which  promised  so 
easily  to  settle  our  difficulties." 

"  Yes,  of  course,  of  course,"  muttered 
AVilliam.  "  It  is  very  fine,  very  fine  indeed," 
he  concluded.  And  again  his  voice  failed 
quite  to  match  his  words  in  enthusiasm. 

11  Then  I'll  go  and  begin  to  see  to  my 
things,"  murmured  Mrs.  Stetson,  rising  to 
her  feet.  "  Billy  seems  anxious  to  get 
away. ' ' 

Billy  did,  indeed,  seem  anxious  to  get 
away.  She  announced  her  intended  de- 
parture at  once  to  the  family.  She  called  it 
a  visit  to  her  old  home,  and  she  seemed  very 
glad  in  her  preparations.  If  there  was  any- 
thing forced  in  this  gayety,  no  one  noticed  it, 


140  Miss  Billy 

or  at  least,  no  one  spoke  of  it.  The  family 
saw  very  little  of  Billy,  indeed,  these  days. 
She  said  that  she  was  busy;  that  she  had 
packing  to  do.  She  stopped  taking  lessons  of 
Cyril,  and  visited  Bertram's  studio  only  once 
during  the  whole  three  days  before  she  went 
away,  and  then  merely  to  get  some  things 
that  belonged  to  her.  On  the  fourth  day, 
almost  before  the  family  realized  what  was 
happening,  she  was  gone;  and  with  her  had 
gone  Mrs.  Stetson  and  Spunk. 

The  family  said  they  liked  it  —  the  quiet, 
the  freedom.  They  said  they  liked  to  be 
alone  —  all  but  William.  He  said  noth- 
ing. 

And  yet  — 

When  Bertram  went  to  his  studio  that 
morning  he  did  not  pick  up  his  brushes  until 
he  had  sat  for  long  minutes  before  the  sketch 
of  a  red-cheeked,  curly-headed  young  girl 
whose  eyes  held  a  peculiarly  wistful  appeal ; 
and  Cyril,  at  his  piano  up-stairs,  sat  with  idle 
fingers  until  they  finally  drifted  into  a  simple 
little  melody  —  the  last  thing  Billy  had  been 
learning. 


A  Pink-Ribbon  Trail  141 

It  was  Pete  who  brought  in  the  kitten ;  and 
Billy  had  been  gone  a  whole  week  then. 

"  The  poor  little  beast  was  cryin'  at  the 
alleyway  door,  sir,"  he  explained.  "  I  —  I 
made  so  bold  as  to  bring  him  in." 

"  Of  course,"  said  William.  "  Did  you 
feed  it?  " 

"  Yes,  sir;  Ling  did." 

There  was  a  pause,  then  Pete  spoke,  dif- 
fidently. 

"  I  thought,  sir,  if  ye  didn't  mind,  I'd  keep 
it.  I'll  try  to  see  that  it  stays  down-stairs, 
sir,  out  of  yer  way." 

"  That's  all  right,  Pete;  keep  it,  by  all 
means,  by  all  means,"  approved  William. 

"  Thank  ye,  sir.  Ye  see,  it's  a  stray.  It 
hasn't  got  any  home.  And,  did  ye  notice, 
sir?  it  looks  like  Spunk." 

"  Yes,  I  noticed,"  said  William,  stirring 
with  sudden  restlessness.  "  I  noticed." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Pete.  And  he  turned  and 
carried  the  small  gray  cat  away. 

The  new  kitten  did  not  stay  down-stairs. 
Pete  tried,  it  is  true,  to  keep  his  promise  to 
watch  it;  but  after  he  had  seen  the  little 


142  Miss  Billy 

animal  carried  surreptitiously  up-stairs  in 
Mr.  William's  arms,  he  relaxed  his  vigilance. 
Some  days  later  the  kitten  appeared  with  a 
huge  pink  bow  behind  its  ears,  somewhat 
awkwardly  tied,  if  it  must  be  confessed. 
Where  it  came  from,  or  who  put  it  there  was 
not  known  —  until  one  day  the  kitten  was 
found  in  the  hall  delightedly  chewing  at  the 
end  of  what  had  been  a  roll  of  pink  ribbon. 
Up  the  stairs  led  a  trail  of  pink  ribbon  and 
curling  white  paper  —  and  the  end  of  the 
trail  was  in  William's  room. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

BILLY   WRITES   ANOTHER   LETTER 

BY  the  middle  of  June  only  William  and 
the  gray  kitten  were  left  with  Pete  and  Dong 
Ling  in  the  Beacon  Street  house.  Cyril  had 
sailed  for  England,  and  Bertram  had  gone  on 
a  sketching  trip  with  a  friend. 

To  William  the  house  this  summer  was 
unusually  lonely ;  indeed,  he  found  the  silent, 
deserted  rooms  almost  unbearable.  Even 
the  presence  of  the  little  gray  cat  served  only 
to  accentuate  the  loneliness  —  it  reminded 
him  of  Billy. 

William  missed  Billy.  He  owned  that  now 
even  to  Pete.  He  said  that  he  would  be  glad 
when  she  came  back.  To  himself  he  said  that 
he  wished  he  had  not  fallen  in  quite  so  readily 
with  Aunt  Hannah's  notion  of  getting  the 
child  away.  It  was  all  nonsense,  he  declared. 
All  she  needed  was  a  little  curbing  and 

143 


144  Miss  Billy 

directing,  both  of  which  could  just  as  well 
have  been  done  there  at  home.  But  she  had 
gone,  and  it  could  not  be  helped  now.  The 
only  thing  left  for  him  to  do  was  to  see  that 
it  did  not  occur  again.  When  Billy  came 
back  she  should  stay,  except  for  necessary 
absences  for  school,  of  course.  All  this 
William  settled  in  his  own  mind  quite  to  his 
own  satisfaction,  entirely  forgetting,  strange 
to  say,  that  it  had  been  Billy's  own  sugges- 
tion that  she  go  away. 

Very  promptly  William  wrote  to  Billy.  He 
told  her  how  he  missed  her,  and  said  that  he 
had  stopped  trying  to  sort  and  catalogue  his 
collections  until  she  should  be  there  to  help 
him.  He  told  her,  too,  after  a  time,  of  the 
gray  kitten,  *  *  Spunkie, ' '  that  looked  so  much 
like  Spunk. 

In  reply  he  received  plump  white  envelopes 
directed  in  the  round,  schoolboy  hand  that  he 
remembered  so  well.  In  the  envelopes  were 
letters,  cheery  and  entertaining,  like  Billy 
herself.  They  thanked  him  for  all  his  many 
kindnesses,  and  they  told  him  something  of 
what  Billy  was  doing.  They  showed  un- 


Billy  Writes  Another  Letter     145 

bounded  interest  in  the  new  kitten,  and  in  all 
else  that  William  wrote  about;  but  they 
hinted  very  plainly  that  he  had  better  not 
wait  for  her  to  help  him  out  on  the  catalogue, 
for  it  would  soon  be  autumn,  and  she  would 
be  in  school. 

William  frowned  at  this,  and  shook  his 
head;  yet  he  knew  that  it  was  true. 

In  August  William  closed  the  Beacon 
Street  house  and  went  to  the  Rangeley  Lakes 
on  a  camping  trip.  He  told  himself  that  he 
would  not  go  had  it  not  been  for  a  promise 
given  to  an  old  college  friend  months  before. 
True,  he  had  been  anticipating  this  trip  all 
winter;  but  it  occurred  to  him  now  that  it 
would  be  much  more  interesting  to  go  to 
Hampden  Falls  and  see  Billy.  He  had  been 
to  the  Kangeley  Lakes,  and  he  had  not  been 
to  Hampden  Falls;  besides,  there  would  be 
Ned  Harding  and  those  queer  old  maids  with 
their  shaded  house  and  socketed  chairs  to 
see.  In  short,  to  William,  at  the  moment, 
there  seemed  no  place  quite  so  absorbingly 
interesting  as  was  Hampden  Falls.  But  he 
went  to  the  Eangeley  Lakes. 


146  Miss  Billy 

In  September  Cyril  came  back  from 
Europe,  and  Bertram  from  the  Adirondacks 
where  he  had  been  spending  the  month  of 
August.  William  already  had  arrived,  and 
with  Pete  and  Dong  Ling  had  opened  the 
house. 

"  Where's  Billy?  Isn't  Billy  here?  "  de- 
manded Bertram. 

"  No.  She  isn't  back  yet,"  replied 
William. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  she's  stayed  up 
there  all  summer !  ' '  exclaimed  Cyril. 

"  Why,  yes,  I  —  I  suppose  so,"  hesitated 
William.  "  You  see,  I  haven't  heard  but 
once  for  a  month.  I've  been  down  in  Maine, 
you  know." 

William  wrote  to  Billy  that  night. 

* l  My  dear :  —  "he  said  in  part.  ' '  I  hope 
you'll  come  home  right  away.  We  want  to 
see  something  of  you  before  yoii  go  away 
again,  and  you  know  the  schools  will  be  open- 
ing soon. 

"  By  the  way,  it  has  just  occurred  to  me  as 
I  write  that  perhaps,  after  all,  you  won't 
have  to  go  quite  away.  There  are  plenty  of 


Billy  Writes  Another  Letter     14? 

good  schools  for  young  ladies  right  in  and 
near  Boston,  which  I  ain  sure  you  could  at- 
tend, and  still  live  at  home.  Suppose  you 
come  back  then  as  soon  as  you  can,  and  we  '11 
talk  it  up.  And  that  reminds  me,  I  wonder 
how  Spunk  will  get  along  with  Spunkie. 
Spunkie  has  been  boarding  out  all  August  at 
a  cat  home,  but  he  seems  glad  to  get  back  to 
us.  I  am  anxious  to  see  the  two  little  chaps 
together,  just  to  find  out  how  much  alike  they 
really  do  look." 

Very  promptly  came  Billy's  answer;  but 
"William's  face,  after  he  had  read  the  let- 
ter, was  almost  as  blank  as  it  had  been  on 
that  April  day  when  Billy's  first  letter 
came  —  though  this  time  for  a  far  different 
reason. 

* '  .Why,  boys,  she  —  isn  't  —  coming, ' '  he 
announced  in  dismay. 

"  Isn't  coming  1  "  ejaculated  two  aston- 
ished voices. 

"  No." 

"Not—  at  —  all?" 

"  Why,  of  course,  later,"  retorted  Will- 
iam, with  unwonted  sharpness.  "  But  not 


148  Miss  Billy 

now.    This  is  what  she  says."    And  he  read 
aloud : 

"  DEAR  UNCLE  WILLIAM:  —  You  poor  dear 
man !  Did  you  think  I'd  really  let  you  spend 
your  time  and  your  thought  over  hunting  up 
a  school  for  me,  after  all  the  rest  you  have 
done  for  me?  Not  a  bit  of  it!  Why,  Aunt 
Hannah  and  I  have  been  buried  under  school 
catalogues  all  summer,  and  I  have  studied 
them  all  until  I  know  just  which  has  turkey 
dinners  on  Sundays,  and  which  ice  cream  at 
least  twice  a  week.  And  it's  all  settled,  too, 
long  ago.  I'm  going  to  a  girls'  school  up  the 
Hudson  a  little  way  —  a  lovely  place,  I'm 
sure,  from  the  pictures  of  it. 

"  Oh,  and  another  thing;  I  shall  go  right 
from  here.  Two  girls  at  Hampden  Falls  are 
going,  and  I  shall  go  with  them.  Isn't  that 
a  fine  chance  for  me?  You  see  it  would  never 
do,  anyway,  for  me  to  go  alone — 'me,  a 
'Billy'  —  unless  I  sent  a  special  courier 
ahead  to  announce  that '  Billy  '  was  a  girl. 

"  Aunt  Hannah  has  decided  to  stay  here 
this  winter  in  the  old  house.  She  likes  it  ever 


Billy  Writes  Another  Letter     149 

so  much,  and  I  don't  think  I  shall  sell  the 
place  just  yet,  anyway.  She  will  go  back,  of 
course,  to  Boston  (after  I've  gone)  to  get 
some  things  at  the  house  that  she'll  want, 
and  also  to  do  some  shopping.  But  she'll  let 
you  know  when  she'll  be  there. 

"  I'll  write  more  later,  but  just  now  I'm  in 
a  terrible  rush.  I  only  write  this  note  to  set 
your  poor  heart  at  rest  about  having  to  hunt 
up  a  school  for  me. 

"  With  love  to  all, 

"  BILLY." 

As  had  happened  once  before  after  a  letter 
from  Billy  had  been  read,  there  was  a  long 
pause. 

' '  Well,  by  Jove !  ' '  breathed  Bertram. 

"  It's  very  sensible,  I'm  sure,"  declared 
Cyril.  "  Still,  I  must  confess,  I  would 
have  liked  to  pick  out  her  piano  teacher  for 
her." 

William  said  nothing  —  perhaps  because 
he  was  reading  Billy's  letter  again. 

At  eight  o'clock  that  night  Bertram  tapped 
on  Cyril's  door. 


150  Miss  Billy 

"  What's  the  trouble?  "  demanded  Cyril 
in  answer  to  the  look  on  the  other's  face. 

Bertram  lifted  his  eyebrows  oddly. 

"I'm  not  sure  whether  you'll  call  it 
'  trouble  '  or  not,"  he  replied;  "  but  I  think 
it's  safe  to  say  that  Billy  is  gone  —  for 
good.'* 

"  For  good!  What  do  you  mean?  —  that 
she 's  not  coming  back  —  ever  1  ' ' 

11  Exactly  that." 

"  Nonsense!  What's  put  that  notion  into 
your  head?  " 

"  Billy's  letter  first;   after  that,  Pete." 

"Pete!" 

"  Yes.  He  came  .to  me  a  few  minutes  ago, 
looking  as  if  he  had  seen  a  ghost.  It  seems 
he  swept  Billy's  rooms  this  morning  and  put 
them  in  order  against  her  coming;  and  to- 
night William  told  him  that  she  wouldn't  be 
here  at  present.  Pete  came  straight  to  me. 
He  said  he  didn't  dare  tell  Mr.  William,  but 
he'd  got  to  tell  some  one:  there  wasn't  one 
single  thing  of  Miss  Billy's  left  in  her  rooms 
nor  anywhere  else  in  the  house  —  not  so  much 
as  a  handkerchief  or  a,  hairpin. ' ' 


Billy  Writes  Another  Letter     151 

"  Hm-m;  that  does  look  —  suspicious,'* 
murmured  Cyril.  "  .What's  up,  do  you 
think?  " 

"  Don't  know;  but  something,  sure.  Still, 
of  course  we  may  be  wrong.  "We  won't  say 
anything  to  Will  about  it,  anyhow.  Poor  old 
chap,  'twould  worry  him,  specially  if  he 
thought  Billy's  feelings  had  been  hurt." 

' '  Hurt  ?  —  nonsense !  Why,  we  did  every- 
thing for  her  —  everything !  ' 

"  Yes,  I  know  —  and  she  tried  to  do  every- 
thing for  us,  too,"  retorted  Bertram, 
zically,  as  he  turned  awaj. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

SEEING   BILLY   OFF 

EARLY  in  October  Mrs.  Stetson  arrived  at 
the  Beacon  Street  house,  but  she  did  not  stay 
long. 

"  I've  come  for  just  a  few  things  I  want, 
and  to  do  seme  shopping,"  she  explained. 

"  But  Aunt  Hannah,"  remonstrated 
"William,  "  what  is  the  meaning  of  this? 
Why  are  you  staying  up  there  at  Hampden 
Falls?  " 

"  I  like  it  there,  William;  and  why 
shouldn't  I  stay?  Surely  there's  no  need  for 
me  to  be  here  now.  with  Billy  away !  ' : 

"  But  Billy's  coming  back!  " 

"  Of  course  she's  coming  back,"  laughed 
Aunt  Hannah,  * '  but  not  this  winter,  certainly. 
Why,  William,  what's  the  matter?  I'm  sure, 
I  think  it's  a  beautiful  arrangement.  Why, 
don't  you  remember?  It's  just  what  we  said 

152 


Seeing  Billy  Off  153 

we  wanted  —  to  keep  Billy  away  for  awhile. 
And  the  best  part  of  it  is,  it's  her  own  idea 
from  the  start. ' ' 

* i  Yes,  I  know,  I  know, ' '  frowned  William : 
"  but  I'm  not  sure,  after  all,  that  that  idea  of 
ours  wasn't  a  mistake,  —  a  mistake  that  she 
needed  to  get  away. ' ' 

"  Never!  We  were  just  right  about  it," 
declared  Aunt  Hannah,  with  conviction. 

"  And  is  Billy  —  happy?  " 

"  She  seems  to  be." 

"  Hm-m;  well,  that's  good,"  said  William, 
as  he  turned  to  go  up  to  his  room.  But  as  he 
climbed  the  stairs  he  sighed;  and  to  hear 
him,  one  would  have  thought  it  anything  but 
good  to  him  —  that  Billy  was  happy. 

One  by  one  the  weeks  passed.  Mrs. 
Stetson  had  long  since  gone  back  to  Hampden 
Falls;  and  Bertram  said  that  the  Strata 
was  beginning  to  look  natural  again.  There 
remained  now,  indeed,  only  Spunkie,  the 
small  gray  cat,  to  remind  any  one  of  the  days 
that  were  gone  —  though,  to  be  sure,  there 
were  Billy's  letters,  if  they  might  be  called  a 
reminder. 


154  Miss  Billy 

Billy  did  not  write  often.  She  said  that 
she  was  ' i  too  busy  to  breathe. ' '  Such  letters 
as  did  come  from  her  were  addressed  to  Will- 
iam, though  they  soon  came  to  be  claimed  by 
the  entire  family.  Bertram  and  Cyril  frankly 
demanded  that  William  read  them  aloud ;  and 
even  Pete  always  contrived  to  have  some 
dusting  or  * '  puttering  ' '  within  earshot  —  a 
subterfuge  quite  well  understood,  but  never 
reproved  by  any  of  the  brothers. 

When  the  Christmas  vacation  drew  near, 
William  wrote  that  he  hoped  Billy  and  Aunt 
Hannah  would  spend  it  with  them ;  but  Billy 
answered  that  although  she  appreciated 
their  kindness  and  thanked  them  for  it,  yet 
she  must  decline  their  invitation,  as  she  had 
already  invited  several  of  the  girls  to  go 
home  with  her  to  Hampden  Falls  for  a 
country  Christmas. 

For  the  Easter  vacation  William  was  even 
more  insistent  —  but  so  was  Billy:  she  had 
already  accepted  an  invitation  to  go  home 
with  one  of  the  girls,  and  she  did  not  think 
it  would  be  at  all  polite  to  change  her  plans 
now. 


Seeing  Billy  Off  155 

William  fretted  not  a  little.  Even  Cyril 
and  Bertram  said  that  it  was  "  too  bad  "; 
that  they  themselves  would  like  to  see  the  girl 
—  so  they  would ! 

It  was  in  the  spring,  at  the  close  of  school, 
however,  that  the  heaviest  blow  fell:  Billy 
was  not  coming  to  Boston  even  then.  She 
wrote  that  she  and  Aunt  Hannah  were  going 
to  "  run  across  the  water  for  a  little  trip 
through  the  British  Isles  ";  and  that  their 
passage  was  already  engaged. 

' '  And  so  you  see, ' '  she  explained, ' '  I  shall 
not  have  a  minute  to  spare.  There'll  be  only 
time  to  skip  home  for  Aunt  Hannah,  and 
to  pack  the  trunks  before  it'll  be  time  to 
start." 

Bertram  looked  at  Cyril  significantly  when 
this  letter  was  read  aloud ;  and  afterward  he 
muttered  in  Cyril 's  ear : 

"  You  see!  It's  Hampden  Falls  she  calls 
*  home  '  now  —  not  the  Strata." 

"  Yes,  I  see,"  frowned  Cyril.  "  It  does 
look  suspicious." 

Two  days  before  the  date  of  Billy's  ex- 
pected sailing,  William  announced  at  the 


156  Miss  Billy 

breakfast  table  that  he  was  going  away  on 
business ;  might  be  gone  until  the  end  of  the 
week. 

"  You  don't  say,"  commented  Bertram. 
"  I'm  going  to-morrow,  but  I'm  coming  back 
in  a  couple  of  days." 

"  Hm-m;  "  murmured  William,  abstract- 
edly. "  Oh,  well,  I  may  be  back  before  the 
end  of  the  week. ' ' 

Only  one  meal  did  Cyril  eat  alone  after  his 
brothers  had  gone ;  then  he  told  Pete  that  he 
had  decided  to  take  the  night  boat  for  New 
York.  There  was  a  little  matter  that  called 
him  there,  he  said,  and  he  believed  the  trip  by 
water  would  be  a  pleasure,  the  night  was  so 
fine  and  warm. 

In  New  York  Cyril  had  little  trouble  in 
finding  Billy,  as  he  knew  the  steamship  she 
was  to  take. 

"  I  thought  as  long  as  I  was  in  New  York 
to-day  I'd  just  come  and  say  good-by  to  you 
and  Aunt  Hannah,"  he  informed  her,  with 
an  evident  aim  toward  making  his  presence 
appear  to  be  casual. 

' '  That    was    good    of   you!"    exclaimed 


Seeing  Billy  Off  157 

Billy.  "  And  how  are  Uncle  William  and 
Mr.  Bertram?  " 

"  Very  well,  I  fancy,  though  they  weren't 
there  when  I  left, ' '  replied  the  man. 

*  *  Oh !  —  gone  away !  ' ' 

"  Yes.  A  little  matter  of  business  they 
said;  but  —  well,  by  Jove!  "  he  broke  off, 
his  gaze  on  a  familiar  figure  hurrying  at  that 
moment  toward  them.  "  There's  William 
now!  " 

William,  with  no  eyes  but  for  Billy,  came 
rapidly  forward. 

"  Well,  well,  Billy!  I  thought  as  long  as  I 
happened  to  be  in  New  York  to-day  I'd  just 
run  down  to  the  boat  and  see  you  and  Aunt 
Hannah  off,  and  wish  —  Cyrill  Where  did 
you  come  from?  " 

Billy  laughed. 

"  He  just  happened  to  be  in  town,  too, 
Uncle  William,  like  you,"  she  explained. 
"  And  I'm  sure  I  think  it's  lovely  of  you  to 
be  so  kind.  Aunt  Hannah '11  be  up  right 
away.  She  went  down  to  the  stateroom 
to —  "  This  time  it  was  Billy  who  stopped 
abruptly.  The  two  men  facing  her  could  not 


158  Miss  Billy 

see  what  she  saw,  and  not  until  their  brother 
Bertram's  merry  greeting  fell  on  their  ears 
did  they  understand  her  sudden  silence. 

"  And  is  this  the  way  you  meant  to  run 
away  from  us,  young  lady  ?  ' '  cried  Bertram. 
' '  Not  so  fast !  You  see,  I  happened  to  be  in 
New  York  this  morning,  and  so  I  —  ' :  Some- 
thing in  Billy's  face  sent  a  pause  to  his  words 
just  as  his  eyes  spied  the  two  men  at  the 
girl's  side.  For  a  moment  he  stared 
dumbly;  then  he  gave  a  merry  gesture  of 
defeat. 

"  It's  all  up!  I  might  as  well  confess.  I've 
been  planning  this  thing  for  three  weeks, 
Billy,  ever  since  your  letter  came,  in  fact. 
As  for  my  two  fellow-sinners  here,  I'll 
wager  they  weren't  two  days  behind  me 
in  their  planning.  So  now,  own  up, 
boys!  " 

"William  and  Cyril,  however,  did  not  have 
to  "  own  up."  Mrs.  Stetson  appeared  at  the 
moment  and  created,  for  them,  a  very  wel- 
come diversion. 

Long  minutes  later,  when  the  good-byes  had 
become  nothing  but  a  flutter  of  white  hand- 


Seeing  Billy  Off  159 

kerchiefs  from  deck  to  shore,  and  shore  to 
deck,  William  drew  a  long  sigh. 

"  That's  a  nice  little  girl,  boys,  a  nice  little 
girl!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  I  declare!  I  didn't 
suppose  I'd  mind  so  much  her  going  so  far 
away.*' 


CHAPTER  XX 

BILLY,   THE   MYTH 

To  all  appearances  it  came  about  very 
naturally  that  Billy  did  not  return  to  America 
for  some  time.  During  the  summer  she  wrote 
occasionally  to  William,  and  gave  glowing  ac- 
counts of  their  travels.  Then  in  September 
came  the  letter  telling  him  that  they  had  con- 
cluded to  stay  through  the  winter  in  Paris. 
Billy  wrote  that  she  had  decided  not  to  go  to 
college.  She  would  take  up  some  stud- 
ies there  in  Paris,  she  said,  but  she  would 
devote  herself  more  particularly  to  her 
music. 

When  the  next  summer  came  there  was  still 
something  other  than  America  to  claim  her 
attention:  the  Calderwells  had  invited  her 
to  cruise  with  them  for  three  months.  Their 
yacht  was  a  little  floating  palace  of  delight, 
Billy  declared,  not  to  mention  the  charm  of 


Billy,  the  Myth  Ibi 

the  unknown  lands  and  waters  that  she  and 
Aunt  Hannah  would  see. 

Of  all  this  Billy  wrote  to  "William  —  at  oc- 
casional intervals  —  but  she  did  not  come 
home.  Even  when  the  next  autumn  came, 
there  was  still  Paris  to  detain  her  for  another 
long  winter  of  study. 

In  the  Henshaw  house  on  Beacon  Street, 
William  mourned  not  a  little  as  each  recur- 
ring season  brought  no  Billy. 

"  The  idea !  It's  just  as  if  one  didn't  have 
a  namesake !  "  he  fumed. 

"  Well,  did  you  have  one?  "  Bertram  de- 
manded one  day.  "  Eeally,  Will,  I'm  begin- 
ning to  think  she's  a  myth.  Long  years  ago, 
from  the  first  of  April  till  June  we  did  have 
two  frolicsome  sprites  here  that  announced 
themselves  as  '  Billy  '  and  '  Spunk,'  I'll  own. 
And  a  year  later,  by  ways  devious  and  secret, 
we  three  managed  to  see  the  one  called 
*  Billy  '  off  on  a  great  steamship.  Since  then, 
what?  A  word  —  a  message  —  a  scrap  of 
paper.  Billy's  a  myth,  I  say!  " 

William  sighed. 
Sometimes  I  don't  know  but  you  aro 


<•  i 


Miss  Billy 


right,"  he  admitted.  "  Why,  it'll  be  three 
years  next  June  since  Billy  was  here.  She 
must  be  nearly  twenty-one  —  and  we  know 
almost  nothing  about  her." 

"  That's  so.  I  wonder  —  "  Bertram 
paused,  and  laughed  a  little,  "  I  wonder  if 
now  she'd  play  guardian  angel  to  me  through 
the  streets  of  Boston." 

William  threw  a  keei?  glance  into  his 
brother's  face. 

"  I  don't  believe  it  would  be  quite  neces- 
sary, now,  Bert,"  he  said  quietly. 

The  other  flushed  a  little,  but  his  eyes 
softened. 

"  Maybe  not,  Will;  still  —  one  can  always 
find  some  use  for  —  a  guardian  angel,  you 
know,"  he  finished,  almost  under  his  breath. 

To  Cyril  Bertram  had  occasionally  spoken, 
during  the  last  two  years,  of  their  first 
suspicions  concerning  Billy's  absence.  They 
speculated  vaguely,  too,  as  to  why  she  had 
gone,  and  if  she  would  ever  come  back  ;  and 
they  wondered  if  anything  could  have 
wounded  her  and  sent  her  away.  To  William 
they  said  nothing  of  all  this,  however; 


Billy,  the  Myth  163 

though  they  agreed  that  they  would  have 
asked  Kate  for  her  opinion,  had  she  been 
there.  But  Kate  was  not  there.  As  it 
chanced,  a  good  business  opportunity  had 
called  Kate's  husband  to  a  .Western  town 
very  soon  after  Billy  herself  had  gone  to 
Hampden  Falls;  and  since  the  family's  re- 
moval to  the  West,  Mrs.  Hartwell  had  not 
once  returned  to  Boston. 

It  was  in  April,  three  years  since  Billy's 
first  appearance  in  the  Beacon  Street  house, 
that  Bertram  met  his  friend,  Hugh  Calder- 
well,  on  the  street  one  afternoon,  and  brought 
him  home  to  dinner. 

Hugh  Calderwell  was  a  youth  who,  Ber- 
tram said,  had  been  born  with  a  whole  dozen 
silver  spoons  in  his  mouth.  And,  indeed,  it 
would  seem  so,  if  present  prosperity  were  any 
indication.  He  was  a  good-looking  young 
fellow  with  a  frank  manliness  that  appealed 
to  men,  and  a  deferential  chivalry  that  ap- 
pealed to  women ;  a  combination  that  brought 
him  many  friends  —  and  some  enemies.  With 
plenty  of  money  to  indulge  a  passion  for 
traveling,  young  Calderwell  had  spent  the 


164  Miss  Billy 

most  of  his  time  since  graduation  in  daring 
trips  into  the  heart  of  almost  impenetrable 
forests,  or  to  the  top  of  almost  inaccessible 
mountains,  with  an  occasional  more  ordinary 
trip  to  give  variety.  He  had  now  come  to 
the  point,  however,  where  he  was  determined 
to  "  settle  down  to  something  that  meant 
something,"  he  told  the  Henshaws,  as  the 
four  men  smoked  in  Bertram's  den  after 
dinner. 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  have,"  he  iterated.  "  And,  by 
the  way,  the  little  girl  that  has  set  me  to 
thinking  in  such  good  earnest  is  a  friend  of 
yours,  too,  —  Miss  Neilson.  I  met  her  in 
Paris.  She  was  on  our  yacht  all  last  sum- 
mer. ' ' 

Three  men  sat  suddenly  erect  in  their 
chairs. 

"  Billy?  "  cried  three  voices.  "Do  you 
know  Billy?  " 

"  To  be  sure !    And  you  do,  too,  she  says." 

"  Oh,  no,  we  don't,"  disputed  Bertram,  em- 
phatically. "  But  we  wish  we  did!  " 

His  guest  laughed. 

"  Well,  I  fancy  you  do  know  her,  or  you 


BiUy,  the  Myth  165 

wouldn't  have  answered  like  that,"  he  re- 
torted. "  For  you  just  begin  to  know  Miss 
Billy  when  you  find  out  that  you  don't  know 
her.  She  is  a  charming  girl  —  a  very  charm- 
ing girl." 

"  She  is  my  namesake,"  announced  Will- 
iam, in  what  Bertram  called  his  "  finest 
ever  "  voice  that  he  used  only  for  the 
choicest  bits  in  his  collections. 

"  Yes,  she  told  me,"  smiled  Calderwell. 
"  '  Billy  '  for  '  William.'  Odd  idea,  too,  but 
clever.  It  helps  to  distinguish  her  even  more 
—  though  she  doesn't  need  it,  for  that  mat- 
ter." 

"  *  Doesn't  need  it,'  "  echoed  William  in 
a  puzzled  voice. 

"  No.  Perhaps  you  don't  know,  Mr.  Hen- 
shaw,  but  Miss  Billy  is  a  very  popular  young 
woman.  You  have  reason  to  be  proud  of 
your  namesake. ' ' 

"  I  have  always  been  that,"  declared 
William,  with  just  a  touch  of  hauteur. 

"  Tell  us  about  her,"  begged  Bertram. 
"  You  remember  I  said  that  we  wished  we 
did  know  her." 


166  Miss  Billy 

Calderwell  smiled. 

"  I  don't  believe,  after  all,  that  you  do 
know  much  about  her,"  he  began  musingly. 
' '  Billy  is  not  one  who  talks  much  of  herself, 
I  fancy,  in  her  letters." 

"William  frowned.  This  time  there  was 
more  than  a  touch  of  hauteur  in  his  voice. 

"  Miss  Neilson  is  not  one  to  show  vanity 
—  anywhere,"  he  said,  with  suggestive  em- 
phasis on  the  name. 

"  Indeed  she  isn't,"  agreed  Calderwell, 
heartily.  *  *  She  is  a  fine  girl  —  quite  one  of 
the  finest  I  know,  in  fact." 

There  was  an  uncomfortable  silence.  Over 
in  the  corner  Cyril  puffed  at  his  cigar  with 
an  air  almost  of  boredom.  He  had  not 
spoken  since  his  first  surprised  questioning 
with  the  others,  "  Do  you  know  Billy?  * 
William  was  still  frowning.  Even  Bertram 
wore  a  look  that  was  not  quite  satisfied. 

"  Miss  Neilson  has  spent  two  winters  in 
Paris  now,  you  know,"  resumed  Calderwell, 
after  a  moment;  "  and  she  is  very  popular 
both  with  the  American  colony,  and  with  the 
otner  students.  As  for  her  *  Aunt  Hannah  ' 


Billy,  the  Myth  167 

—  they  all  make  a  pet  of  her;  but  that  is, 
perhaps,  because  Billy  herself  is  so  devoted." 

Again  William  frowned  at  the  familiar 
"  Billy  ";  but  Calderwell  talked  on  unheed- 
ing. 

"  After  all,  I'm  not  sure  but  some  of  us 
regard  '  Aunt  Hannah  '  with  scant  favor, 
occasionally,"  he  laughed;  "  something  as  if 
she  were  the  dragon  that  guarded  the  prin- 
cess, you  know.  Miss  Billy  is  popular  with 
the  men,  and  she  has  suitors  enough  to  turn 
any  girl's  head  —  but  her  own." 

' '  Suitors !  ' '  cried  William,  plainly  aghast. 
"  Why,  Billy's  nothing  but  a  child!  " 

Calderwell  gave  an  odd  smile. 

"  How  long  is  it  since  you've  seen  —  Miss 
Neilson?  "  he  asked. 

"  Two  years." 

"  And  then  only  for  a  few  minutes  just 
before  she  sailed,"  amended  Bertram.  "  We 
haven't  really  seen  much  of  her  since  three 
years  ago." 

"  Hm-m;  well,  you'll  see  for  yourself 
soon.  You  know  she's  coming  home  next 
month." 


168  Miss  Billy 

Not  one  of  the  brothers  did  know  it  —  but 
not  one  of  them  intended  that  Calderwell 
should  find  out  that  they  did  not. 

"  Yes,  she's  coming  home,"  said  William, 
lifting  his  chin  a  little. 

"  Oh,  yes,  next  month,"  added  Bertram, 
nonchalantly. 

Even  Cyril  across  the  room  was  not  to  be 
outdone. 

"  Yes.  Miss  Neilson  comes  home  next 
month,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

BILLY,    THE   REALITY 

VEEY  early  in  May  came  the  cheery  letter 
from  Billy  herself  announcing  the  news  of 
her  intended  return. 

"  And  I  shall  be  so  glad  to  see  you  all," 
she  wrote  in  closing.  "  It  seems  so  long 
since  I  left  America."  Then  she  signed  her 
name  with  ' '  kindest  regards  to  all  "  — 
Billy  did  not  send  "  love  to  all  "  any 
more. 

William  at  once  began  to  make  plans  for 
his  namesake's  comfort. 

"  But,  Will,  she  didn't  say  she  was  coming 
here,"  Bertram  reminded  him. 

"  She  didn't  need  to,"  smiled  William, 
confidently.  "  She  just  took  it  for  granted, 
of  course.  This  is  her  home." 

"  But  it  hasn't  been  —  for  years.  She's 
called  Hampden  Falls  *  home.'  " 

169 


170  Miss  Billy 

"  I  know,  but  that  was  before,"  demurred 
William,  his  eyes  a  little  anxious.  "  Besides, 
they've  sold  the  house  now,  you  know. 
There's  nowhere  for  her  to  go  but  here, 
Bertram." 

"  All  right,"  acquiesced  the  younger  man, 
still  doubtingly.  "  Maybe  that's  so;  maybe! 
But  —  "  he  did  not  finish  his  sentence,  and 
his  eyes  were  troubled  as  he  watched  his 
brother  begin  to  rearrange  Billy's  rooms. 
In  time,  however,  so  sure  was  William  of 
Billy's  return  to  the  Beacon  Street  house, 
that  Bertram  ceased  to  question;  and,  with 
almost  as  much  confidence  as  William  him- 
self displayed,  he  devoted  his  energies  to  the 
preparations  for  Billy's  arrival. 

And  what  preparations  they  were!  Even 
Cyril  helped  this  time  —  to  the  extent  of 
placing  on  Billy's  piano  a  copy  of  his  latest 
book,  and  a  pile  of  new  music.  Nor  were  the 
melodies  that  floated  down  from  the  upper 
floor  akin  to  funeral  marches;  they  were 
perilously  near  to  being  allied  tc,  "  rag- 
time." 

At  last  everything  was  ready.    There  was 


Billy,  the  Reality  171 

not  one  more  bit  of  dust  to  catch  Pete's  eye, 
nor  one  more  adornment  that  demanded 
William's  careful  hand  to  adjust.  In  Billy's 
rooms  new  curtains  graced  the  windows  and 
new  rugs  the  floors.  In  Mrs.  Stetson's,  too, 
similar  changes  had  been  made.  The  latest 
and  best  "  Face  of  a  Girl  "  smiled  at  one 
from  above  Billy's  piano,  and  the  very  rarest 
of  William's  treasures  adorned  the  mantel- 
piece. No  guns  nor  knives  nor  fishing-rods 
met  the  eyes  now.  Instead,  at  every  turn, 
there  was  a  hint  of  feminine  tastes:  a  mir- 
ror, a  workbasket,  a  low  sewing-chair,  a 
stand  with  a  tea  tray.  And  everywhere  were 
roses,  up-stairs  and  down-stairs,  until  the  air 
was  heavy  with  their  perfume.  In  the  dining- 
I'oom  Pete  was  again  "  swinging  back  and 
forth  like  a  pendulum,"  it  is  true;  but 
it  was  a  cheerful  pendulum  to-day,  anxious 
only  that  no  time  should  be  lost.  In  the 
kitchen  alone  was  there  unhappiness,  and 
there  because  Dong  Ling  had  already  spoiled 
?i  whole  cake  of  chocolate  in  a  vain  attempt 
to  make  Billy's  favorite  fudge.  Even 
Spunkie,  grown  now  to  be  sleek,  lazy,  and 


172  Miss  Billy 

majestically  indifferent,  was  in  holiday  at- 
tire, for  a  brand-new  pink  bow  of  huge  di- 
mensions adorned  his  fat  neck  —  for  the  first 
time  in  many  months. 

' '  You  see, ' '  William  had  explained  to  Ber- 
tram, "  I  put  on  that  ribbon  again  because 
I  thought  it  would  make  Spunkie  seem  more 
homelike,  and  more  like  Spunk.  You  know 
there  wasn't  anything  Billy  missed  so  much 
as  that  kitten  when  she  went  abr^  ad.  Aunt 
Hannah  said  so.'* 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  Bertram  had  laughed; 
"  but  still,  Spunkie  isn't  Spunk,  you  under- 
stand! "  he  had  finished,  with  a  vision  in  his 
eyes  of  Billy  as  she  had  looked  that  first  night 
when  she  had  triumphantly  lifted  from  the 
green  basket  the  little  gray  kitten  with  its 
enormous  pink  bow.  This  time  there  was  no 
circuitous  journeying,  no  secrecy  in  the  trip 
to  New  York.  Quite  as  a  matter  of  course 
the  three  brothers  made  their  plans  to  meet 
Billy,  and  quite  as  a  matter  of  course  they 
met  her.  Perhaps  the  only  cloud  in  the  hori- 
zon of  their  happiness  was  the  presence  of 
Calderwell.  He,  too,  had  come  to  meet  Billy 


Billy,  the  Reality  17S 

—  and    all    the    Henshaw    brothers    were 
vaguely  conscious  of  a  growing  feeling  of 
dislike  toward  Calderwell. 

Billy  was  unmistakably  glad  to  see  them 

—  and  to  see  Calderwell.    It  was  while  she 
was  talking  to  Calderwell,  indeed,  that  Will- 
iam and  Cyril  and  Bertram  had  an  oppor- 
tunity really  to   see  the  girl,  and  to  note 
what  time  had  done  for  her.     They  knew 
then,    at    once,    that    time    had    been    very 
kind. 

It  was  a  slim  Billy  that  they  saw,  with  a 
head  royally  poised,  and  a  chin  that  was 
round  and  soft,  and  yet  knew  well  its  own 
mind.  The  eyes  were  still  appealing,  in  a 
way,  yet  behind  the  appeal  lay  unsounded 
depths  of  —  not  one  of  the  brothers  could 
quite  make  up  his  mind  just  what,  yet  all  the 
brothers  determined  to  find  out.  The  hair 
still  curled  distractingly  behind  the  pretty 
ears,  and  fluffed  into  burnished  bronze  where 
the  wind  had  loosened  it.  The  cheeks  were 
paler  now,  though  the  rose-flush  still  glowed 
warmly  through  the  clear,  smooth  skin.  The 
mouth  —  Billy 's  mouth  had  always  been  fas- 


174  Miss  Billy 

cinating,  Bertram  suddenly  decided,  as  lie 
watched  it  now.  He  wanted  to  paint  it  — 
again.  It  was  not  too  large  for  beauty  nor 
too  small  for  strength.  It  curved  delight- 
fully, and  the  lower  lip  had  just  the  fullness 
and  the  color  that  he  liked  —  to  paint,  he 
said  to  himself. 

William,  too,  was  watching  Billy's  mouth; 
in  fact  —  though  he  did  not  know  it  —  one 
never  was  long  near  Billy  without  noticing 
her  mouth,  if  she  talked.  William  thought  it 
pretty,  merry,  and  charmingly  kissable;  but 
just  now  he  wished  that  it  would  talk  to  him, 
and  not  to  Calderwell  any  longer.  Cyril  - 
indeed,  Cyril  was  paying  little  attention  to 
Billy.  He  had  turned  to  Aunt  Hannah.  To 
tell  the  truth,  it  seemed  to  Cyril  that,  after 
all,  Billy  was  very  much  like  other  merry, 
thoughtless,  rather  noisy  young  women,  of 
whom  he  knew  —  and  disliked  —  scores.  It 
had  occurred  to  him  suddenly  that  perhaps  it 
would  not  be  unalloyed  bliss  to  take  this 
young  namesake  of  William's  home  with 
them. 

It  was  not  until  an  hour  later,  when  Billy, 


Billy,  the  Reality  175 

Aunt  Hannah,  and  the  Henshaws  had  reached 
the  hotel  where  they  were  to  spend  the  night, 
that  the  Henshaw  brothers  began  really  to 
get  acquainted  with  Billy.  She  seemed  then 
more  like  their  own  Billy  —  the  Billy  that 
they  had  known. 

' l  And  I  'm  so  glad  to  be  here, ' '  she  cried ; 
"  and  to  see  you  all.  America  is  the  best 
place,  after  all !  ' 

"  And  of  America,  Boston  is  the  Hub,  you 
know,"  Bertram  reminded  her. 

"  It  is,"  nodded  Billy. 

"  And  it  hasn't  changed  a  mite,  except  to 
grow  better.  You'll  see  to-morrow." 

"  As  if  I  hadn  't  been  counting  the  days !  ' 
she  exulted.    "  And  now  what  have  you  been 
doing  —  all  of  you  I  ' 

"  Just  wait  till  you  see,"  laughed  Bertram. 
"  They're  all  spread  out  for  your  inspec- 
tion." 

"A  new 'Face  of  a  Girl'?" 

"  Of  course  —  yards  of  them!  '• 

"  And  heaps  of  '  Old  Blues  >  and  '  black 
basalts  '?  "  she  questioned,  turning  to  Will- 
iam. 


176  Miss  Billy 

"  Well,  a  —  few,"  hesitated  William,  mod- 
estly. 

"  And  —  the  music;  what  of  that?  "  Billy 
looked  now  at  Cyril. 

"  You'll  see,"  he  shrugged.  "  There's 
very  little,  after  all  —  of  anything. ' ' 

Billy  gave  a  wise  shake  of  her  head. 

"  I  know  better;  and  I  want  to  see 
it  all  so  much.  We've  talked  and  talked 
of  it ;  haven 't  we,  Aunt  Hannah  ?  —  of 
what  we  would  do  when  we  got  to  Bos- 
ton? " 

"  Yes,  my  dear;  you  have." 

The  girl  laughed. 

"  I  accept  the  amendment,"  she  retorted 
with  mock  submission.  "  I  suppose  it  is  al- 
ways I  who  talk." 

"It  was  —  when  I  painted  you,"  teased 
Bertram.  "  By  the  way,  I'll  let  you  talk  if 
you'll  pose  again  for  me,"  he  finished 
eagerly. 

Billy  uptilted  her  nose. 

"  Do  you  think,  sir,  you  deserve  it,  after 
that  speech?  "  she  demanded 

"  But  how  about  your  art  —  your  music?  " 


Billy,  the  Reality  177 

entreated  William.  ' '  You  have  said  so  little 
of  that  in  your  letters." 

Billy  hesitated.  For  a  brief  moment  she 
glanced  at  Cyril.  He  did  not  appear  to  have 
heard  his  brother's  question.  He  was  talk- 
ing with  Aunt  Hannah. 

"  Oh,  I  play  —  some,"  murmured  the  girl, 
almost  evasively.  "  But  tell  me  of  yourself, 
Uncle  William,  and  of  what  you  are  do- 
ing." And  William  needed  no  second  bid- 
ding. 

It  was  some  time  later  that  Billy  turned 
to  him  with  an  amazed  exclamation  in  re- 
sponse to  something  he  had  said. 

"  Home  with  you!  Why,  Uncle  William, 
what  do  you  mean?  You  didn't  really  think 
you'd  got  to  be  troubled  with  me  any 
longer!  "  she  cried  merrily. 

William's  face  paled,  then  flushed. 

"  I  did  not  call  it '  trouble,'  Billy,"  he  said 
quietly.  His  grieved  eyes  looked  straight 
into  hers  and  drove  the  merriment  quite 
away. 

11  Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,"  she  said  gently. 
"  And  I  appreciate  your  kindness,  indeed  I 


i78  Miss  Billy 

do;  but  I  couldn't  —  really  I  couldn't  think 
of  such  a  thing!  ' 

"  And  you  don't  have  to  think  of  it,"  cut 
in  Bertram,  who  considered  that  the  situation 
was  becoming  much  too  serious.  "  All  you 
have  to  do  is  to  come." 

Billy  shook  her  head. 

"  You  are  so  good,  all  of  you!  But  you 
didn't  —  you  really  didn't  think  I  was  — 
coming!  "  she  protested. 

"  Indeed  we  did,"  asserted  Bertram, 
promptly;  "  and  we  have  done  everything  to 
get  ready  for  you,  too,  even  to  rigging  up 
Spunkie  to  masquerade  as  Spunk.  I'll  war- 
rant that  Pete's  nose  is  already  flattened 
against  the  window-pane,  lest  we  should  hap- 
pen to  come  to-night;  and  there's  no  telling 
how  many  cakes  of  chocolate  Dong  Ling  has 
spoiled  by  this  time.  We  left  him  trying  to 
make  fudge,  you  know." 

Billy  laughed  —  but  she  cried,  too;  at 
least,  her  eyes  grew  suddenly  moist.  Ber- 
tram tried  to  decide  afterward  whether  she 
laughed  till  she  cried,  or  cried  till  she 
laughed. 


Billy,  the  Reality  179 

1  i  No,  no, ' '  she  demurred  tremulously.  ' l  I 
couldn't.  I  really  have  never  intended  that." 

"  But  why  not?  What  are  you  going  to 
do?  "  questioned  William  in  a  voice  that  was 
dazed  and  hurt. 

The  first  question  Billy  ignored.  The  sec- 
ond she  answered  with  a  promptness  and  a 
gayety  that  was  meant  to  turn  the  thoughts 
away  from  the  first. 

"  We  are  going  to  Boston,  Aunt  Hannah 
and  I.  We've  got  rooms  engaged  for  just 
now,  but  later  we're  going  to  take  a  house  and 
live  together.  That's  what  we're  going  to 
do." 


CHAPTER   XXII 

HUGH   CALDEKWELL 

IN  the  Beacon  Street  house  William 
mournfully  removed  the  huge  pink  bow  from 
Spunkie  's  neck,  and  Bertram  threw  away  the 
roses.  Cyril  marched  up-stairs  with  his  pile 
of  new  music  and  his  book ;  and  Pete,  in  obe- 
dience to  orders,  hid  the  workbasket,  the  tea 
table,  and  the  low  sewing-chair.  With  a 
great  display  of  a  * '  getting  back  home  ' '  air, 
Bertram  moved  many  of  his  belongings  up- 
stairs —  but  inside  of  a  week  he  had  moved 
them  down  again,  saying  that,  after  all,  he 
believed  he  liked  the  first  floor  better.  Billy 's 
rooms  were  closed  then,  and  remained  as  they 
had  for  years  —  silent  and  deserted. 

Billy  with  Aunt  Hannah  had  gone  directly 
to  their  Back  Bay  hotel.  "  This  is  for  just 
while  I'm  house-hunting,"  the  girl  had  said. 
But  very  soon  she  had  decided  to  go  to 

180 


Hugh  Calderwell  isi 

Hampden  Falls  for  the  summer  and  postpone 
her  house-buying  until  the  autumn.  Billy 
was  twenty-one  now,  and  there  were  many 
matters  of  business  to  arrange  with  Lawyer 
Harding,  concerning  her  inheritance.  It  was 
not  until  September,  therefore,  when  Billy 
once  more  returned  to  Boston,  that  the  Hen- 
shaw  brothers  had  the  opportunity  of  renew- 
ing their  acquaintance  with  William's  name- 
sake. 

"  I  want  a  home,"  Billy  said  to  Bertram 
and  William  on  the  night  of  her  arrival.  (As 
before,  Mrs.  Stetson  and  Billy  had  gone  di- 
rectly to  a  hotel.)  "  I  want  a  real  home  with 
a  furnace  to  shake  —  if  I  want  to  —  and  some 
dirt  to  dig  in." 

"  Well,  I'm  sure  that  ought  to  be  easy  to 
find,"  smiled  Bertram. 

"  Oh,  but  that  isn't  all,"  supplemented 
Billy.  "  It  must  be  mostly  closets  and 
piazza.  At  least,  those  are  the  important 
things." 

1 '  Well,  you  might  run  across  a  snag  there. 
Why  don't  you  build?  " 

Billy  gave  a  gesture  of  dissent. 


182  Miss  Billy 

11  Too  slow.    I  want  it  now." 

Bertram  laughed.  His  eyes  narrowed 
quizzically. 

"  From  what  Oalderwell  says,"  he  ban- 
tered, "  I  should  judge  that  there  are  plenty 
of  sighing  swains  who  are  only  too  ready  to 
give  you  a  home  —  and  now. ' ' 

The  pink  deepened  in  Billy's  cheeks. 

"  I  said  closets  and  a  piazza,  dirt  to  dig, 
and  a  furnace  to  shake,"  she  retorted  mer- 
rily. "  I  didn't  say  I  wanted  a  husband." 

"  And  you  don't,  of  course,"  interposed 
William,  decidedly.  "  You  are  much  too 
young  for  that." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  agreed  Billy  demurely;  but 
Bertram  was  sure  he  saw  a  twinkle  under 
tlie  downcast  lashes. 

"  And  where  is  Cyril?  "  asked  Mrs.  Stet- 
son, coming  into  the  room  at  that  moment. 

William  stirred  restlessly. 

"Well,  Cyril  couldn't  —  couldn't  come," 
stammered  William  with  an  uneasy  glance  at 
his  brother. 

Billy  laughed  unexpectedly. 

"  It's   too   bad  —  about   Mr.    Cyril's   not 


Hugh  Calderwell  183 

coming,"  she  murmured.  And  again  Ber- 
tram caught  the  twinkle  in  the  downcast 
eyes. 

To  Bertram  the  twinkle  looked  interesting, 
and  worth  pursuit ;  but  at  the  very  beginning 
of  the  chase  Calderwell's  card  came  up,  and 
that  ended  —  everything,  so  Bertram  de- 
clared crossly  to  himself. 

Billy  found  her  dirt  to  dig  in,  and  her  fur- 
nace to  shake,  in  Brookline.  There  were 
closets,  too,  and  a  generous  expanse  of  ve- 
randa. They  all  belonged  to  a  quaint  little 
house  perched  on  the  side  of  Corey  Hill. 
From  the  veranda  in  the  rear,  and  from  many 
of  the  windows,  one  looked  out  upon  a  delight- 
ful view  of  many-hued,  many-shaped  roofs 
nestling  among  towering  trees,  with  the  wide 
sweep  of  the  sky  above,  and  the  haze  of  far- 
away hills  at  the  horizon. 

"  In  fact,  it's  as  nearly  perfect  as  it  can 
be  —  and  not  take  angel- wings  and  fly  away, ' ' 
declared  Billy.  "  I  have  named  it  '  Hill- 
side.' " 

Very  early  in  her  career  as  house-owner, 
Billy  decided  that  however  delightful  it  might 


184  Miss  Billy 

be  to  have  a  furnace  to  shake,  it  would  not  be 
at  all  delightful  to  shake  it;  besides,  there 
was  the  new  motor  car  to  run.  Billy  there- 
fore sought  and  found  a  good,  strong  man 
who  had  not  only  the  muscle  and  the  willing- 
ness to  shake  the  furnace,  but  the  skill  to  turn 
chauffeur  at  a  moment's  notice.  Best  of  all, 
this  man  had  also  a  wife  who,  with  a  maid  to 
assist  her,  would  take  full  charge  of  the 
house,  and  thus  leave  Billy  and  Mrs.  Stetson 
free  from  care.  All  these,  together  with  a 
canary,  and  a  kitten  as  near  like  Spunk  as 
could  be  obtained,  made  Billy's  household. 

"  And  now  I'm  ready  to  see  my  friends,'* 
she  announced. 

"  And  I  think  your  friends  will  be  ready 
to  see  you,"  Bertram  assured  her. 

And  they  were  —  at  least,  so  it  appeared. 
For  at  once  the  little  house  perched  on  the 
hillside  became  the  Mecca  for  many  of  the 
Henshaws'  friends  who  had  known  Billy  as 
William's  merry,  eighteen-year-old  name- 
sake. There  were  others,  too,  whom  Billy 
had  met  abroad;  and  there  were  soft-step- 
ping, sweet-faced  old  women  and  an  occa- 


Hugh  Calderwell  185 

sional  white-whiskered  old  man  —  Aunt  Han- 
nah's  friends  —  who  found  that  the  young 
mistress  of  Hillside  was  a  charming  hostess. 
There  were  also  the  Henshaw  "  boys,"  and 
there  was  always  Calderwell  —  at  least,  so 
Bertram  declared  to  himself  sometimes. 

Bertram  came  frequently  to  the  little  house 
on  the  hill,  even  more  frequently  than  Will- 
iam; but  Cyril  was  not  seen  there  so  often. 
He  came  once  at  first,  it  is  true,  and  followed 
Billy  from  room  to  room  as  she  proudly  dis- 
played her  new  home.  He  showed  polite  in- 
terest in  her  view,  and  a  perfunctory  enjoy- 
ment of  the  tea  she  prepared  for  him.  But 
he  did  not  come  again  for  some  time,  and 
when  he  did  come,  he  sat  stiffly  silent,  while 
his  brothers  did  most  of  the  talking. 

As  to  Calderwell  —  Calderwell  seemed 
suddenly  to  have  lost  his  interest  in  impene- 
trable forests  and  unclimbable  mountains. 
Nothing  more  intricate  than  the  long  Beacon 
Street  boulevard,  or  more  inaccessible  than 
Corey  Hill  seemed  worth  exploring,  appar- 
ently. According  to  Calderwell 's  own  ver- 
sion of  it,  he  had  "  settled  down  ";  he  was 


186  Miss  Billy 

going  to  "be  something  that  was  some- 
thing." And  he  did  spend  sundry  of  his 
morning  hours  in  a  Boston  law  office  with 
ponderous,  calf -bound  volumes  spread  in  im- 
posing array  on  the  desk  before  him.  Other 
hours  —  many  hours  —  he  spent  with  Billy. 

One  day,  very  soon,  in  fact,  after  she  ar- 
rived in  Boston,  Billy  asked  Calderwell 
about  the  Henshaws. 

"  Tell  me  about  them,"  she  said.  "  Tell 
me  what  they  have  been  doing  all  these 
years. ' ' 

"  Tell  you  about  them!  Why,  don't  you 
know?  ' 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  No.  Cyril  says  nothing.  William  little 
more  —  about  themselves;  and  you  know 
what  Bertram  is.  One  can  hardly  separate 
sense  from  nonsense  with  him." 

"  You  don't  know,  then,  how  splendidly 
Bertram  has  done  with  his  art?  " 

"No;  only  from  the  most  casual  hearsay. 
Has  he  done  well  then?  " 

"  Finely!  The  public  has  been  his  for 
years,  and  now  the  critics  are  tumbling  over 


Hugh  Calderwell  187 

each  other  to  do  him  honor.  They  rave  about 
his  '  sensitive,  brilliant,  nervous  touch, '  — 
whatever  that  may  be ;  his  '  marvelous  color 
sense  ';  his  *  beauty  of  line  and  pose.'  And 
they  quarrel  over  whether  it's  realism  or 
idealism  that  constitutes  his  charm." 

' '  I  'm  so  glad !  And  is  it  still  the  '  Face  of 
a  Girl  '!  " 

"  Yes;  only  he's  doing  straight  portrai- 
ture now  as  well.  It's  got  to  be  quite  the 
thing  to  be  '  done  '  by  Henshaw ;  and  there 's 
many  a  fair  lady  that  has  graciously  com- 
missioned him  to  paint  her  portrait.  He's  a 
fine  fellow,  too  —  a  mighty  fine  fellow.  You 
may  not  know,  perhaps,  but  three  or  four 
years  ago  he  was  —  well,  not  wild,  but 
'  frolicsome,'  he  would  probably  have  called 
it.  He  got  in  with  a  lot  of  fellows  that  — 
well,  that  weren't  good  for  a  chap  of  Ber- 
tram's temperament." 

"  Like  — Mr.  Seaver?  " 

Calderwell  turned  sharply. 

"  Did  you  know  Seaver?  "  he  demanded  in 
obvious  surprise. 

*'  I  used  to  see  him  —  with  Bertram," 


188  Miss  Billy 

1 1  Oh !  Well,  lie  was  one  of  them,  unfortu- 
nately. But  Bertram  shipped  him  years 
ago. ' ' 

Billy  gave  a  sudden  radiant  smile  —  but 
she  changed  the  subject  at  once. 

"  And  Mr.  William  still  collects,  I  sup- 
pose," she  observed. 

*  *  Jove !  I  should  say  he  did !  I  've  for- 
gotten the  latest;  but  he's  a  fine  fellow,  too, 
like  Bertram." 

"And  — Mr.  Cyril?  " 

Calderwell  frowned. 

"  That  chap's  a  poser  for  me,  Billy,  and 
no  mistake.  I  can't  make  him  out!  '; 

"  What's  the  matter?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Probably  I'm  not  '  tuned 
to  his  pitch.'  Bertram  told  me  once  that 
Cyril  was  very  sensitively  strung,  and  never 
responded  until  a  certain  note  was  struck. 
Well,  I  haven't  ever  found  that  note,  I 
reckon." 

Billy  laughed. 

"  I  never  heard  Bertram  say  that,  but  I 
think  I  know  what  he  means;  and  he's  right, 
too,  I  begin  to  realize  now  what  a  jangling 


Hugh  Calderwell  189 

discord  I  must  have  created  when  I  triod  to 
harmonize  with  him  three  years  ago!  But 
what  is  he  doing  in  his  music?  " 

The  other  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Same  thing.  Plays  occasionally,  and 
plays  well,  too;  but  he's  so  erratic  it's  dif- 
ficult to  get  him  to  do  it.  Everything  must 
be  just  so,  you  know  —  air,  light,  piano,  and 
audience.  He's  got  another  book  out,  I'm 
told  —  a  profound  treatise  on  somebody's 
something  or  other  —  musical,  of  course. " 

"  And  he  used  to  write  music;  doesn't  he 
do  that  any  more!  " 

"  I  believe  so.  I  hear  of  it  occasionally 
through  musical  friends  of  mine.  They  even 
play  it  to  me  sometimes.  But  I  can't  stand 
for  much  of  it  —  his  stuff  —  really,  Billy.  ' ' 

"  '  Stuff  '  indeed!  And  why  not?  "  An 
odd  hostility  showed  in  Billy's  eyes. 

Again  Calderwell  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Don't  ask  me.  I  don't  know.  But 
they're  always  dead  slow,  somber  things, 
with  the  wail  of  a  lost  spirit  shrieking 
through  them." 

"  But  I  just  love  lost  spirits  that  wail," 


190  Miss  Billy 

avowed  Billy,  with  more  than  a  shade  of  re- 
proach in  her  voice. 

Calderwell  stared;  then  he  shook  his  head. 

11  Not  in  mine,  thank  you;  "  he  retorted 
whimsically.  *  *  I  prefer  my  spirits  of  a  more 
sane  and  cheerful  sort." 

The  girl  laughed,  but  almost  instantly  she 
fell  silent. 

11  I've  been  wondering,"  she  began  mu- 
singly, after  a  time,  * '  why  some  one  of  those 
three  men  does  not  —  marry. ' ' 

11  You  wouldn't  wonder  —  if  you  knew 
them  better,"  declared  Calderwell.  "  Now 
think.  Let's  begin  at  the  top  of  the  Strata  — 
by  the  way,  Bertram's  name  for  that  estab- 
lishment is  mighty  clever !  First,  Cyril :  ac- 
cording to  Bertram  Cyril  hates  '  all  kinds  of 
women  and  other  confusion  ' ;  and  I  fancy 
Bertram  hits  it  about  right.  So  that  settles 
Cyril.  Then  there's  William  —  you  know 
"William.  Any  girl  would  say  William  was  a 
dear;  but  William  isn't  a  marrying  man. 
Dad  says,"  —  Calderwell 's  voice  softened  a 
little  —  "dad  says  that  William  and  his 
young  wife  were  the  most  devoted  couple  that 


Hugn  uaiderweli  191 

he  ever  saw;  and  that  when  she  died  she 
seemed  to  take  with  her  the  whole  of  Will-1 
iam's  heart  —  that  is,  what  hadn't  gone  with 
the  baby  a  few  years  before.  There  was  a 
boy,  you  know,  that  died. ' ' 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  nodded  Billy,  quick  tears 
in  her  eyes.  "  Aunt  Hannah  told  me." 

"  Well,  that  counts  out  William,  then," 
said  Calderwell,  with  an  air  of  finality. 

"  But  how  about  Bertram?  You  haven't 
settled  Bertram,"  laughed  Billy,  archly. 

11  Bertram!  "  Calderwell's  eyes  widened. 
"  Billy,  can  you  imagine  Bertram's  making 
love  in  real  earnest  to  a  girl?  " 

"  Why,  I  —  don 't  —  know ;  maybe !  '  * 
Billy  tipped  her  head  from  side  to  side  as  if 
she  were  viewing  a  picture  set  up  for  her 
inspection. 

"  Well,  I  can't.  In  the  first  place,  no  girl 
would  think  he  was  serious;  or  if  by  any 
chance  she  did,  she'd  soon  discover  that  it 
was  the  turn  of  her  head  or  the  tilt  of  her 
chin  that  he  admired  —  to  paint.  Now  isn't 
that  so?  " 

Billy  laughed,  but  she  did  not  answer. 


192  Miss  Billy 

' '  It  is,  and  you  know  it, ' '  declared  Oalder- 
well.  "  And  that  settles  him.  Now  you  can 
see,  perhaps,  why  none  of  these  men  —  will 
marry. ' ' 

It  was  a  long  minute  before  Billy  spoke. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  don't  see  it  at  all,"  she 
declared  with  roguish  merriment.  "  More- 
over, I  think  that  some  day,  some  one  of  them 
—  will  marry,  Sir  Doubtful!  " 

Calderwell  threw  a  quick  glance  into  her 
eyes.  Evidently  something  he  saw  there  sent 
a  swift  shadow  to  his  own.  He  waited  a  mo- 
ment, then  asked  abruptly: 

"  Billy,  won't  you  marry  me?  ' 

Billy  frowned,  though  her  eyes  still 
laughed. 

"  Hugh,  I  told  you  not  to  ask  me  that 
again,"  she  demurred. 

' '  And  I  told  you  not  to  ask  impossibilities 
of  me,"  he  retorted  imperturbably.  "  Billy, 
won't  you,  now —  seriously?  " 

11  Seriously,  no,  Hugh.  Please  don't  let  us 
go  all  over  that  again  when  we've  done  it  so 
many  times." 

"  No,  let's  don't,"  agreed  the  man,  ckeer- 


Hugh  Calderwell  193 

fully.  "  And  we  don't  have  to,  either,  if 
you'll  only  say  '  yes,'  now  right  away,  with- 
out any  more  fuss." 

Billy  sighed  impatiently. 

"  Hugh,  won't  you  understand  that  I'm 
serious?  "  she  cried;  then  she  turned  sud- 
denly, with  a  peculiar  flash  in  her  eyes. 

"  Hugh,  I  don't  believe  Bertram  himself 
could  make  love  any  more  nonsensically  than 
you  can !  ' ' 

Calderwell  laughed,  but  he  frowned,  too: 
and  again  he  threw  into  Billy's  face  that 
keenly  questioning  glance.  He  said  some- 
thing —  a  light  something  —  that  brought 
the  laugh  to  Billy's  lips  in  spite  of  herself; 
but  he  was  still  frowning  when  he  left  the 
house  some  minutes  later,  and  the  shadow 
was  not  gone  from  his  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

BERTRAM   DOES   SOME   QUESTIONING 

BILLY'S  time  was  well  occupied.  There  were 
so  many,  many  things  she  wished  to  do,  and 
so  few,  few  hours  in  which  to  do  them.  First 
there  was  her  music.  She  made  arrange- 
ments at  once  to  study  with  one  of  Boston's 
best  piano  teachers,  and  she  also  made  plans 
to  continue  her  French  and  German.  She 
joined  a  musical  club,  a  literary  club,  and 
a  more  strictly  social  club ;  and  to  numerous 
church  charities  and  philanthropic  enter- 
prises she  lent  more  than  her  name,  giving 
freely  of  both  time  and  money. 

Friday  afternoons,  of  course,  were  to  be 
held  sacred  to  the  Symphony  concerts;  and 
on  certain  Wednesday  mornings  there  was  to 
be  a  series  of  recitals,  in  which  she  was 
greatly  interested. 

For  Society  with  a  capital  S,  Billy  cared 
194 


Bertram  Does  Some  Questioning  195 

little ;  but  for  sociability  with  a  small  s,  she 
cared  much;  and  very  wide  she  opened  her 
doors  to  her  friends,  lavishing  upon  them  a 
wealth  of  hospitality.  Nor  did  they  all  come 
in  carriages  or  automobiles  —  these  friends. 
A  certain  pale-faced  little  widow  over  at  the 
South  End  knew  just  how  good  Miss 
Neilson's  tea  tasted  on  a  crisp  October  after- 
noon and  Marie  Hawthorn,  a  frail  young 
woman  who  gave  music  lessons,  knew  just 
how  restful  was  Miss  Neilson's  couch  after 
a  weary  day  of  long  walks  and  fretful  pupils. 

11  But  how  in  the  world  do  you  discover 
them  all  —  these  forlorn  specimens  of  hu- 
manity? "  queried  Bertram  one  evening, 
when  he  had  found  Billy  entertaining  a 
freckled-faced  messenger-boy  with  a  plate  of 
ice  cream  and  a  big  square  of  cake. 

1 '  Anywhere  —  everywhere, ' '  smiled  Billy. 

11  Well,  this  last  candidate  for  your  favor, 
who  has  just  gone  —  who's  he?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  beyond  that  his  name  is 
'  Tom/  and  that  he  likes  ice  cream." 

"  And  you  never  saw  him  before?  ' 

"  Never." 


196  Miss  Billy 

"  Humph!  One  wouldn't  think  it,  to  see 
his  charming  air  of  nonchalant  accustomed- 
ness." 

"  Oh,  but  it  doesn't  take  much  to  make  a 
little  fellow  like  that  feel  at  home,"  laughed 
Billy. 

"  And  are  you  in  the  habit  of  feeding 
every  one  who  comes  to  your  house,  on  ice 
cream  and  chocolate  cake?  I  thought  that 
stone  doorstep  of  yours  was  looking  a  little 
worn." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  retorted  Billy.  "  This 
little  chap  came  with  a  message  just  as  I  was 
finishing  dinner.  The  ice  cream  was  partic- 
ularly good  to-night,  and  it  occurred  to  me 
that  he  might  like  a  taste;  so  I  gave  it  to 
him." 

Bertram  raised  his  eyebrows  quizzically. 

"Very  kind,  of  course;  but  —  why  ice 
cream?  "  he  questioned.  "  I  thought  it  was 
roast  beef  and  boiled  potatoes  that  was  sup- 
posed to  be  handed  out  to  gaunt-eyed 
hunger. '  ' 

1 '  It  is,"  nodded  Billy,  "  and  that's  why  I 
think  sometimes  they'd  like  ice  cream  and 


Bertram  Does  Some  Questioning  197 

chocolate  frosting.  Besides,  to  give  sugar 
plums  one  doesn't  have  to  unwind  yards  of 
red  tape,  or  worry  about  *  pauperizing  the 
poor.'  To  give  red  flannels  and  a  ton  of  coal, 
one  must  be  properly  circumspect  and  consult 
records  and  city  missionaries,  of  course ;  and 
that's  why  it's  such  a  relief  sometimes  just 
to  hand  over  a  simple  little  sugar  plum  and 
see  them  smile." 

For  a  minute  Bertram  was  silent,  then  he 
asked  abruptly: 

"  Billy,  why  did  you  leave  the  Strata?  " 

Billy  was  taken  quite  by  surprise.  A  pink 
flush  spread  to  her  forehead,  and  her  tongue 
stumbled  at  first  over  her  reply. 

11  Why,  I  —  it  seemed  —  you  —  why,  I  left 
to  go  to  Hampden  Falls,  to  be  sure.  Don't 
you  remember?  "  she  finished  gaily. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  that,"  conceded 
Bertram  with  disdainful  emphasis.  "  But 
why  did  you  go  to  Hampden  Falls!  ' 

"  Why,  it  —  it  was  the  only  place  to  go  — 
that  is,  I  wanted  to  go  there,"  she  corrected 
hastily.  "  Didn't  Aunt  Hannah  tell  you  that 
I  —  I  was  homesick  to  get  back  there  t  " 


198  Miss  Billy 

"  Oil,  yes,  Aunt  Hannah  said  that,"  ob- 
served the  man;  "  but  wasn't  that  homesick- 
ness a  little  —  sudden?  ' 

Billy  blushed  pink  again. 

"Why,  maybe;  but  —  well,  homesickness 
is  always  more  or  less  sudden;  isn't  it?"  she 
parried. 

Bertram  laughed,  but  his  eyes  grew  sud- 
denly almost  tender. 

"  See  here,  Billy,  you  can't  bluff  worth  a 
cent,"  he  declared.  "  You  are  much  too  re- 
freshingly frank  for  that.  Something  was 
the  trouble.  Now  what  was  it?  Won't  you 
tell  me,  please?  " 

Billy  pouted.  She  hesitated  and  gazed 
anywhere  but  into  the  challenging  eyes  be- 
fore her.  Then  very  suddenly  she  looked 
straight  into  them. 

"  Very  well,  there  was  a  reason  for  my 
leaving,"  she  confessed  a  little  breathlessly. 
"I  —  didn't  want  to  —  bother  you  any  more 
—  all  of  you. ' ' 

"Bother  us!  " 

"  No.  I  found  out.  You  couldn't  paint; 
Mr.  Cyril  couldn't  play  or  write ;  and  —  and 


Bertram  Does  Some  Questioning  199 

everything  was  different  because  I  was 
there.  But  I  didn't  blame  you  —  no,  no!  J! 
she  assured  him  hastily.  "  It  was  only  that 
I  —  found  out. ' ' 

"  And  may  I  ask  how  you  obtained  this 
most  extraordinary  information?  "  demanded 
Bertram,  savagely. 

Billy  shook  her  head.  Her  round  little 
chin  looked  suddenly  square  and  determined. 

"  You  may  ask,  but  I  shall  not  tell,"  she 
declared  firmly. 

If  Bertram  had  known  Billy  just  a  little 
better  he  would  have  let  the  matter  drop 
there ;  but  he  did  not  know  Billy,  so  he  asked : 

"  Was  it  anything  I  did  —  or  said?  " 

The  girl  did  not  answer. 

"  Billy,  was  it?  "  Bertram's  voice  showed 
terror  now. 

Billy  laughed  unexpectedly. 

"  Do  you  think  I'm  going  to  say  '  no  '  to  a 
series  of  questions,  and  then  give  the  whole 
thing  away  by  my  silence  when  you  come  to 
the  right  one? "  she  demanded  merrily. 
"  No,  sir!  " 

"  Well,  anyhow,  it  wasn't  I,  then,"  sighed 


200  Miss  Billy 

the  man  in  relief;  "  for  you  just  observed 
that  you  were  not  going  to  say  '  no  to  a 
series  of  questions  '  —  and  that  was  the  first 
one.  So  I've  found  out  that  much,  anyhow," 
he  concluded  triumphantly. 

The  girl  eyed  him  for  a  moment  in  silence ; 
then  she  shook  her  head. 

"I'm  not  going  to  be  caught  that  way, 
either, ' '  she  smiled.  '  *  You  know  —  just 
what  you  did  in  the  first  place  about  it: 
nothing. ' ' 

The  man  stirred  restlessly  and  pondered. 
After  a  long  pause  he  adopted  new  tactics. 
With  a  searching  study  of  her  face  to  note 
the  slightest  change,  he  enumerated: 

"  Was  it  Cyril,  then?  Will?  Aunt 
Hannah?  Kate?  It  couldn't  have  been 
Pete,  or  Dong  Ling!  " 

Billy  still  smiled  inscrutably.    At  no  name- 
had  Bertram  detected  so  much  as  the  flicker 
of  an  eyelid;    and  with  a  glance  half-ad- 
miring, half-chagrined,  he  fell  back  into  his 
chair. 

"  I  '11  give  it  up.  You  Ve  won, ' '  he  acknowl- 
edged. '  *  But,  Billy, ? '  —  his  manner  changed 


Bertram  Does  &ome  Questioning  201 

suddenly  —  "I  wonder  if  you  know  just  what 
a  hole  you  left  in  the  Strata  when  you  went 
away. ' ' 

"But  I  couldn't  have  —  in  the  whole 
Strata,"  objected  Billy.  "  I  occupied  only 
one  stratum,  and  a  stratum  doesn't  go  up  and 
down,  you  know,  only  across ;  and  mine  was 
the  second  floor." 

Bertram  gave  a  slow  shake  of  his  head. 

"  I  know;  but  yours  was  a  freak  forma- 
tion," he  maintained  gravely.  "  It  did  go  up 
and  down.  Honestly,  Billy,  we  did  care  — 
lots.  Will  and  I  were  inconsolable,  and  even 
Cyril  played  dirges  for  a  week." 

"  Did  he?  "  gurgled  Billy,  with  sudden 
joyousness.  "  I'm  so  glad!  " 

"  Thank  you,"  murmured  Bertram,  disap- 
provingly. "  We  hadn't  considered  it  a  sub- 
ject for  exultation." 

"What?  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  that!  That  is 
—  "  she  stopped  helplessly. 

"  Oh,  never  mind  about  trying  to  explain," 
interposed  Bertram.  "  I  fancy  the  remedy 
would  be  worse  than  the  disease,  in  this 
case." 


202  Miss  Billy 

"  Nonsense!  I  only  meant  that  I  like  to 
be  missed — sometimes,"  retorted  Billy,  a 
little  nettled. 

"  And  you  rejoice  then  to  have  me  mope, 
Cyril  play  dirges,  and  Will  wander  mourn- 
fully about  the  house  with  Spunkie  in  his 
arms!  You  should  have  seen  William.  If 
his  forlornness  did  not  bring  tears  to  your 
eyes,  the  grace  of  the  pink  bow  that  lopped 
behind  Spunkie 's  left  ear  would  surely  have 
brought  a  copious  flow." 

Billy  laughed,  but  her  eyes  grew  tender. 

"Did  Uncle  William  do  —  that?  "  she 
asked. 

1 '  He  did  —  and  he  did  more.  Pete  told 
me  after  a  time  that  you  had  not  left  one 
thing  in  the  house,  anywhere;  but  one  day, 
over  behind  William's  most  treasured 
Lowestoft,  I  found  a  small  shell  hairpin,  and 
a  flat  brown  silk  button  that  I  recognized  as 
coming  from  one  of  your  dresses." 

"  Oh!  "  said  Billy,  softly.  "  Dear  Uncle 
William  —  and  how  good  he  was  to  me !  " 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

CYRIL,    THE   ENIGMA 

PERHAPS  it  was  because  Billy  saw  so  little 
of  Cyril  that  it  was  Cyril  whom  she  wished 
particularly  to  see.  William,  Bertram, 
Calderwell  —  all  her  other  friends  came  fre- 
quently to  the  little  house  on  the  hill,  Billy 
told  herself;  only  Cyril  held  aloof  —  and  it 
was  Cyril  that  she  wanted. 

Billy  said  that  it  was  his  music;  that  she 
wanted  to  hear  him  play,  and  that  she  wanted 
him  to  hear  her.  She  felt  grieved  and 
chagrined.  Not  once  since  she  had  come  had 
he  seemed  interested  —  really  interested  in 
her  music.  He  had  asked  her,  it  is  true,  in  a 
perfunctory  way  what  she  had  done,  and  who 
her  teachers  had  been.  But  all  the  while  she 
was  answering  she  had  felt  that  he  was  not 
listening ;  that  he  did  not  care.  And  she  cared 
so  much !  She  knew  now  that  all  her 

203 


204  Miss  Billy 

ing  through  the  long  hard  months  of  study, 
had  been  for  Cyril.  Every  scale  had  been 
smoothed  for  his  ears,  and  every  phrase  had 
been  interpreted  with  his  approbation  in 
view.  Across  the  wide  waste  of  waters  his 
face  had  shone  like  a  star  of  promise,  beckon- 
ing her  on  and  on  to  heights  unknown.  .  . 
And  now  she  was  here  in  Boston,  but  she 
could  not  even  play  the  scale,  nor  interpret 
the  phrase  for  the  ear  to  which  they  had  been 
so  laboriously  attuned;  and  Cyril's  face,  in 
the  flesh,  was  no  beckoning  star  of  promise, 
but  was  a  thing  as  cold  and  relentless  as  was 
the  waste  of  waters  across  which  it  had 
shone  in  the  past. 

Billy  did  not  understand  it.  She  knew,  it  is 
true,  of  Cyril's  reputed  aversion  to  women  in 
general  and  to  noise;  but  she  was  neither 
women  in  general  nor  noise,  she  told  herself 
indignantly.  She  was  only  the  little  maid, 
grown  three  years  older,  who  had  sat  at  his 
feet  and  adoringly  listened  to  all  that  he  had 
been  pleased  to  say  in  the  old  days  at  the  top 
of  the  Strata.  And  he  had  been  kind  then  — 
very  kind,  Billy  declared  stoutly.  He  had 


Cyril,  the  Enigma  205 

been  patient  and  interested,  too,  and  he  had 
seemed  not  only  willing,  but  glad  to  teach 
her,  while  now 

Sometimes  Billy  thought  she  would  ask 
him  candidly  what  was  the  matter.  But  it 
was  always  the  old,  frank  Billy  that  thought 
this;  the  impulsive  Billy,  that  had  gone  up 
to  Cyril's  rooms  years  before  and  cheerfully 
announced  that  she  had  come  to  get 
acquainted.  It  was  never  the  sensible,  cir- 
cumspect Billy  that  Aunt  Hannah  had  for 
three  years  been  shaping  and  coaxing  into 
being.  But  even  this  Billy  frowned  rebel- 
liously,  and  declared  that  sometime  some- 
thing should  be  said  that  would  at  least  give 
him  a  chance  to  explain. 

In  all  the  weeks  since  Billy's  purchase  of 
Hillside,  Cyril  had  been  there  only  twice,  and 
it  was  nearly  Thanksgiving  now.  Billy  had 
seen  him  once  or  twice,  also,  at  the  Beacon 
Street  house,  when  she  and  Aunt  Hannah  had 
dined  there;  but  on  all  these  occasions  he  had 
been  either  the  coldly  reserved  guest  or  the 
painfully  punctilious  host.  Never  had  he 
been  in  the  least  approachable. 


206  Miss  Billy 

"  He  treats  me  exactly  as  he  treated  poor 
little  Spunk  that  first  night,"  Billy  declared 
hotly  to  herself. 

Only  once  since  she  came  had  Billy  heard 
Cyril  play,  and  that  was  when  she  had  shared 
the  privilege  with  hundreds  of  others  at  a 
public  concert.  She  had  sat  then  entranced, 
with  her  eyes  on  the  clean-cut  handsome 
profile  of  the  man  who  played  with  so  sure  a 
skill  and  power,  yet  without  a  note  before 
him.  Afterward  she  had  met  him  face  to 
face,  and  had  tried  to  tell  him  how  moved 
she  was ;  but  in  her  agitation,  and  because  of 
a  strange  shyness  that  had  suddenly  come  to 
her,  she  had  ended  only  in  stammering  out 
some  flippant  banality  that  had  brought  to 
his  face  merely  a  bored  smile  of  acknowledg- 
ment. 

Twice  she  had  asked  him  to  play  for  her; 
but  each  time  he  had  begged  to  be  excused, 
courteously,  but  decidedly. 

"  It's  no  use  to  tease,"  Bertram  had  inter- 
posed once,  with  an  airy  wave  of  his  hands. 
"  This  lion  always  did  refuse  to  roar  to 
order.  If  you  really  must  hear  him,  you'll 


Cyril,  the  Enigma  207 

have  to  slip  up-stairs  and  camp  outside  his 
door,  waiting  patiently  for  such  crumbs  as 
may  fall  from  his  table." 

"  Aren't  your  metaphors  a  little  mixed?  " 
questioned  Cyril  irritably. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  acknowledged  Bertram  with 
unruffled  temper.  "  But  I  don't  mind  if  Billy 
doesn't.  I  only  meant  her  to  understand 
that  she'd  have  to  do  as  she  used  to  do  — 
listen  outside  your  door." 

Billy's  cheeks  reddened. 

"  But  that  is  what  I  sha'n't  do,"  she  re- 
torted with  spirit.  "  And,  moreover,  I  still 
have  hopes  that  some  day  he'll  play  to  me." 

"  Maybe,"  conceded  Bertram,  doubtfully; 
11  if  the  stool  and  the  piano  and  the  pedals 
and  the  weather  and  his  fingers  and  your 
ears  and  my  watch  are  all  just  right  —  then 
he '11  play." 

"  Nonsense!  "  scowled  Cyril.  "  I'll  play, 
of  course,  some  day.  But  I'd  rather  not  to- 
day." And  there  the  matter  had  ended. 
Since  then  Billy  had  not  asked  him  to  play. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   OLD   ROOM AND   BILLY 

THANKSGIVING  was  to  be  a  great  day  in  the 
Henshaw  family.  The  Henshaw  brothers 
were  to  entertain.  Billy  and  Aunt  Hannah 
had  been  invited  to  dinner;  and  so  joyously 
hospitable  was  William's  invitation  that  it 
would  have  included  the  new  kitten  and  the 
Canary  if  Billy  would  have  consented  to  bring 
them. 

Once  more  Pete  swept  and  garnished  the 
house,  and  once  more  Dong  Ling  spoiled  un- 
counted squares  of  chocolate  trying  to  make 
the  baffling  fudge.  Bertram  said  that  the 
entire  Strata  was  a-quiver.  Not  but  that 
Billy  and  Aunt  Hannah  had  visited  there 
before,  but  that  this  was  different.  They 
were  to  come  at  noon  this  time.  This  visit 
was  not  to  be  a  tantalizing  little  piece  of 

208 


The  Old  Room  —  and  Billy      209 

stiffness  an  hour  and  a  half  long.  It  was  to 
be  a  satisfying,  whole-souled  matter  of  half 
a  day's  comradeship,  almost  like  old  times. 
So  once  more  the  roses  graced  the  rooms,  and 
a  flaring  pink  bow  adorned  Spunkie's  fat 
neck;  and  once  more  Bertram  placed  his 
latest  "  Face  of  a  Girl  "  in  the  best  possible 
light.  There  was  still  a  difference,  however, 
for  this  time  Cyril  did  not  bring  any  music 
down  to  the  piano,  nor  display  anywhere  a 
copy  of  his  newest  book. 

The  dinner  was  to  be  at  three  o'clock,  but 
by  special  invitation  the  guests  were  to  ar- 
rive at  twelve;  and  promptly  at  the  ap- 
pointed hour  they  came. 

11  There,  this  is  something  like,"  exulted 
Bertram,  when  the  ladies,  divested  of  their 
wraps,  toasted  their  feet  before  the  open  fire 
in  his  den. 

"  Indeed  it  is,  for  now  I've  time  to  see 
everything  —  everything  you've  done  since 
I've  been  gone,"  cried  Billy,  gazing  eagerly 
about  her. 

"  Hm-m;  well,  that  wasn't  what  I  meant." 
shrugged  Bertram, 


210  Miss  Billy 

11  Of  course  not;  but  it's  what  I  meant," 
retorted  Billy.  "  And  there  are  other 
things,  too.  I  expect  there  are  half  a  dozen 
new  *  Old  Blues  '  and  black  basalts  that  I 
want  to  see;  eh,  Uncle  William?  '  she 
finished,  smiling  into  the  eyes  of  the  man  who 
had  been  gazing  at  her  with  doting  pride  for 
the  last  five  minutes. 

"  Ho!  Will  isn't  on  teapots  now,"  quoth 
Bertram,  before  his  brother  had  a  chance  to 
reply.  "  You  might  dangle  the  oldest  *  Old 
Blue  '  that  ever  was  before  him  now,  and 
he'd  pay  scant  attention  if  he  happened  at 
the  same  time  to  get  his  eyes  on  some  old 
pewter  chain  with  a  green  stone  in  it." 

Billy  laughed;  but  at  the  look  of  genuine 
distress  that  came  into  William's  face,  she 
sobered  at  once. 

"  Don't  you  let  him  tease  you,  Uncle  Will- 
iam," she  said  quickly.  "  Pm  sure  pewter 
chains  with  green  stones  in  them  sound  just 
awfully  interesting,  and  I  want  to  see  them 
right  away  now.  Come,"  she  finished,  spring- 
ing to  her  feet,  "  take  me  up-stairs,  please, 
and  show  them  to  me." 


The  Old  Room  —  and  Billy 


"William  shook  his  head  and  said,  "  No, 
no!  "  protesting  that  what  he  had  were 
scarcely  worth  her  attention;  but  even 
while  he  talked  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  ad- 
vanced half  eagerly,  half  reluctantly,  toward 
the  door. 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Billy,  fondly,  as  she  laid 
her  hand  on  his  arm.  *  '  I  know  they  are  very 
much  worth  seeing.  Come!  '  And  she  led 
the  way  from  the  room.  '  '  Oh,  oh  !  "  she  ex- 
claimed a  few  moments  later,  as  she  stood 
before  a  small  cabinet  in  one  of  "William's 
rooms.  "  Oh,  oh,  how  pretty!  " 

"  Do  you  like  them?  I  thought  you 
would,"  triumphed  William,  quick  joy 
driving  away  the  anxious  fear  in  his  eyes. 
"  You  see,  I  —  I  thought  of  you  when  I  got 
them  —  every  one  of  them.  I  thought  you'd 
like  them.  But  I  haven't  very  many,  yet,  of 
course.  This  is  the  latest  one."  And  he 
tenderly  lifted  from  its  black  velvet  mat  a 
curious  silver  necklace  made  of  small,  flat, 
chain-linked  disks,  heavily  chased,  and  set  at 
regular  intervals  with  a  strange,  blue-green 
stone. 


212  Miss  Billy 

Billy  hung  above  it  enraptured. 

"  Oh,  what  a  beauty !  And  this,  I  suppose, 
is  Bertram's  *  pewter  chain  '!  *  Pewter,'  in- 
deed! "  she  scoffed.  "  Tell  me,  Uncle  Will- 
iam, where  did  you  get  it?  ' 

And  Uncle  William  told,  happily,  thirstily, 
drinking  in  Billy's  evident  interest  with 
delight.  There  were,  too,  a  quaintly-set  ring 
and  a  cat's-eye  brooch ;  and  to  each  belonged 
a  story  which  William  was  equally  glad  to 
tell.  There  were  other  treasures,  also: 
buckles,  rings,  brooches,  and  necklaces,  some 
of  dull  gold,  some  of  equally  dull  silver ;  but 
all  of  odd  design  and  curious  workmanship, 
studded  here  and  there  with  bits  of  red, 
green,  yellow,  blue,  and  flame-colored  stones. 
Very  learnedly  then  from  William's  lips  fell 
the  new  vocabulary  that  had  come  to  him 
with  his  latest  treasures:  chrysoprase, 
carnelian,  girasol,  onyx,  plasma,  sardonyx, 
lapis  lazuli,  tourmaline,  chrysolite,  hyacinth, 
and  carbuncle. 

"  They  are  lovely,  perfectly  lovely!  ': 
breathed  Billy,  when  the  last  chain  had 
slipped  through  her  fingers  into  William's 


The  Old  Boom  —  and  Billy       213 

hand.  "  I  think  they  are  the  very  nicest 
things  you  ever  collected." 

"  So  do  I,"  agreed  the  man,  emphatically. 
"  And  they  are  —  different,  too." 

'  *  They  are, ' '  said  Billy,  * '  very  —  differ- 
ent." But  she  was  not  looking  at  the 
jewelry :  her  eyes  were  on  a  small  shell  hair- 
pin and  a  brown  silk  button  half  hidden 
behind  a  Lowestoft  teapot. 

On  the  way  down-stairs  William  stopped  a 
moment  at  Billy's  old  rooms. 

"  I  wish  you  were  here  now,"  he  said  wist- 
fully. "  They're  all  ready  for  you  —  these 
rooms." 

"  Oh,  but  why  don't  you  use  them?  —  such 
pretty  rooms !  ' '  cried  Billy,  quickly. 

William  gave  a  gesture  of  dissent. 

' '  We  have  no  use  for  them ;  besides,  they 
belong  to  you  and  Aunt  Hannah.  You  left 
your  imprint  long  ago,  my  dear  —  we  should 
not  feel  at  home  in  them." 

"Oh,  but  you  should!  You  mustn't  feel 
like  that!  "  objected  Billy,  hurriedly  crossing 
the  room  to  the  window  to  hide  a  sudden  ner- 
vousness that  had  assailed  her,  "  And 


214  Miss  Billy 

here 's  my  piano,  too,  and  open !  '  she 
finished  gaily,  dropping  herself  upon  the 
piano  stool  and  dashing  into  a  brilliant 
mazourka. 

Billy,  like  Cyril,  had  a  way  of  working  off 
her  moods  at  her  finger  tips ;  and  to-day  the 
tripping  notes  and  crashing  chords  told  of  a 
nervous  excitement  that  was  not  all  joy. 
From  the  doorway  "William  watched  her 
flying  fingers  with  fond  pride,  and  it  was  very 
reluctantly  that  he  acceded  to  Pete's  request 
to  go  down-stairs  for  a  moment  to  settle  a 
vexed  question  concerning  the  table  decora- 
tions. 

Billy,  left  alone,  still  played,  but  with  a 
difference.  The  tripping  notes  slowed  into 
a  weird  melody  that  rose  and  fell  and  lost 
itself  in  the  exquisite  harmony  that  had  been 
born  of  the  crashing  chords.  Billy  was  im- 
provising now,  and  into  her  music  had  crept 
something  of  her  old-time  longing  when  she 
had  come  to  that  house  a  lonely,  orphan  girl, 
in  search  of  a  home.  On  and  on  she  played ; 
then  with  a  discordant  note,  she  suddenly 
rose  from  the  piajio.  Sh§  was  thinking  of 


The  Old  Room  —  and  Billy       215 

Kate,  and  wondering  if,  had  Kate  not 
"  managed  "  the  little  room  would  still  be 
home. 

So  swiftly  did  Billy  cross  to  the  door  that 
the  man  on  the  stairs  outside  had  not  time  to 
get  quite  out  of  sight.  Billy  did  not  see  his 
face,  however;  she  saw  only  a  pair  of  gray- 
trousered  legs  disappearing  around  the  curve 
of  the  landing  above.  She  thought  nothing 
of  it  until  later  when  dinner  was  announced, 
and  Cyril  came  down-stairs;  then  she  saw 
that  he,  and  he  only,  that  afternoon  wore 
trousers  of  that  particular  shade  of  gray. 

The  dinner  was  a  great  success.  Even  the 
chocolate  fudge  in  the  little  cut  glass  bonbon 
dishes  was  perfect;  and  it  was  a  question 
whether  Pete  or  Dong  Ling  tried  the  harder 
to  please. 

After  dinner  the  family  gathered  in  the 
drawing-room  and  chatted  pleasantly.  Ber- 
tram displayed  his  prettiest  and  newest  pic- 
tures, and  Billy  played  and  sung  —  bright, 
tuneful  little  things  that  she  knew  Aunt 
Hannah  and  Uncle  William  liked.  If  Cyril 
was  pleased  or  displeased,  he  did  not  show  it 


216  Miss  Billy 

—  but  Billy  had  ceased  to  play  for  Cyril's 
ears.  She  told  herself  that  she  did  not  care ; 
but  she  did  wonder:  was  that  Cyril  on  the 
stairs,  and  if  so  —  what  was  he  doing  there? 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

"  MUSIC   HATH    CHARMS  " 

Two  days  after  Thanksgiving  Cyril  called 
at  Hillside. 

11  I've  come  to  hear  you  play,"  he  an- 
nounced abruptly. 

Billy's  heart  sung  within  her  —  but  her 
temper  rose.  Did  he  think  then  that  he  had 
but  to  beckon  and  she  would  come  —  and  at 
this  late  day,  she  asked  herself.  Aloud  she 
said: 

"  Play?  But  this  is  '  so  sudden  M  Be- 
sides, you  have  heard  me." 

The  man  made  a  disdainful  gesture. 

"  Not  that.  I  mean  play  —  really  play. 
Billy,  why  haven't  you  played  to.  me  be- 
fore? " 

Billy's  chin  rose  perceptibly. 

"  Why  haven't  you  asked  me? "  she 
parried. 

217 


218  Miss  Billy 

To  Billy's  surprise  the  man  answered  this 
with  calm  directness. 

' l  Because  Calderwell  said  that  you  were  a 
dandy  player,  and  I  don't  care  for  dandy 
players." 

Billy  laughed  now. 

"  And  how  do  you  know  I'm  not  a  dandy 
player,  Sir  Impertinent?  "  she  demanded. 

' '  Because  I  've  heard  you  —  when  you 
weren't." 

"  Thank  you,"  murmured  Billy. 

Cyril  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

11  Oh,  you  know  very  well  what  I  mean," 
he  defended.  "  I've  heard  you;  that's  all." 

"  When?  " 

"  That  doesn't  signify." 

Billy  was  silent  for  a  moment,  her  eyes 
gravely  studying  his  face.  Then  she  asked : 

"  Were  you  long  —  on  that  stairway?  ' 

"Eh?  What?  Oh!"  Cyril's  forehead 
grew  suddenly  pink.  '  *  Well  ?  "  he  finished  a 
little  aggressively. 

"Oh,  nothing,"  smiled  the  girl.  "Of 
course  people  who  live  in  glass  houses  must 
not  throw  stones." 


"  Music  Hath  Charms  " 


11  Very  well  then,  I  did  listen,"  acknowl- 
edged the  man,  testily.  "  I  liked  what  you 
were  playing.  I  hoped,  down-stairs  later, 
that  you'd  play  it  again;  but  you  didn't.  I 
came  to-day  to  hear  it." 

Again  Billy  's  heart  sung  within  her  —  but 
again  her  temper  rose,  too. 

"  I  don't  think  I  feel  like  it,"  she  said 
sweetly,  with  a  shake  of  her  head.  "  Not 
to-day." 

For  a  brief  moment  Cyril  stared  frown- 
ingly;  then  his  face  lighted  with  his  rare 
smile. 

"I'm  fairly  checkmated,"  he  said,  rising 
to  his  feet  and  going  straight  to  the  piano. 

For  long  minutes  he  played,  modulating 
from  one  enchanting  composition  to  another, 
and  finishing  with  the  one  "  all  chords  with 
big  bass  notes  "  that  marched  on  and  on  — 
the  one  Billy  had  sat  long  ago  on  the  stairs 
to  hear. 

"  There  !  Now  will  you  play  for  me?  "he 
asked,  rising  to  his  feet,  and  turning  re- 
proachful eyes  upon  her. 

Billy,  too,  rose  to  her  feet.    Her  face  was 


£20  Miss  Billy 

flushed  and  her  eyes  were  shining.  Her  lips 
quivered  with  emotion.  As  was  always  the 
case,  Cyril's  music  had  carried  her  quite  out 
of  herself. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you,"  she  sighed. 
"You  don't  know  —  you  can't  know  how 
beautiful  it  all  is  —  to  me !  ' 

11  Thank  you.  Then  surely  now  you'll  play 
to  me,"  he  returned. 

A  look  of  real  distress  came  to  Billy's  face. 

"  But  I  can't  —  not  what  you  heard  the 
other  day,"  she  cried  remorsefully.  "  You 
see,  I  was  —  only  improvising. ' ' 

Cyril  turned  quickly. 

"  Only  improvising!  Billy,  did  you  ever 
write  it  down  —  any  of  your  improvi- 
sing? " 

An  embarrassed  red  flew  to  Billy's  face. 

"  Not  —  not  that  amounted  to  —  well,  that 
is,  some  —  a  little, ' '  she  stammered. 

"  Let  me  see  it." 

"  No,  no,  I  couldn't  —  not  you!' 

Again  the  rare  smile  lighted  Cyril's  eyes. 

"  Billy,  let  me  see  that  paper  —  please." 

Very  slowly  the  girl  turned  toward  the 


"  Music  Hath  Charms  "         221 

music  cabinet.  She  hesitated,  glanced  once 
more  appealiugly  into  Cyril's  face,  then  with 
nervous  haste  opened  the  little  mahogany 
door  and  took  from  one  of  the  shelves  a  sheet 
of  manuscript  music.  But,  like  a  shy  child 
with  her  first  copy  book,  she  held  it  half 
behind  her  back  as  she  came  toward  the 
piano. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Cyril  as  he  reached 
far  out  for  the  music.  The  next  moment  he 
seated  himself  again  at  the  piano. 

Twice  he  played  the  little  song  through 
carefully,  slowly. 

"  Now,  sing  it,"  he  directed. 

Falteringly,  in  a  very  faint  voice,  and  with 
very  many  breaths  taken  where  they  should 
not  have  been  taken,  Billy  obeyed. 

"  When  we  want  to  show  off  your  song, 
Billy,  we  won't  ask  you  to  sing  it,"  observed 
the  man,  dryly,  when  she  had  finished. 

Billy  laughed  and  dimpled  into  a  blush. 

"  When  I  want  to  show  off  my  song  I 
sha'n't  be  singing  it  to  you  for  the  first 

time,"  she  pouted. 

Cyril  did  not  answer.     He  was  playing 


Miss  Billy 


over  and  over  certain  harmonies  in  the  music 
before  him. 

"  Hm-m;  I  see  you've  studied  your  coun- 
terpoint to  some  purpose,"  he  vouchsafed, 
finally;  then:  "  "Where  did  you  get  the 
words?  " 

The  girl  hesitated.  The  flush  had  deepened 
on  her  face. 

' '  Well,  I  —  "  she  stopped  and  gave  an 
embarrassed  laugh.  ''I'm  like  the  small  boy 
who  made  the  toys.  '  I  got  them  all  out  of 
my  own  head,  and  there's  wood  enough  to 
make  another.'  " 

"  Hm-m;  indeed!  '  grunted  the  man. 
"  Well,  have  you  made  any  others?  " 

' '  One  —  or  two,  maybe. ' ' 

"  Let  me  see  them,  please." 

"I  think  —  we've  had  enough  —  for  to- 
day," she  faltered. 

"  I  haven't.  Besides,  if  I  could  have  a 
couple  more  to  go  with  this,  it  would  make  a 
very  pretty  little  group  of  songs." 

"'To  go  with  this  M  What  do  you 
mean? ' 

"  To  the  publishers,  of  course." 


"  Music  Hath  Charms  "          223 

"  The  publishers!  " 

11  Certainly.  Did  you  think  you  were  go- 
ing to  keep  these  songs  to  yourself?  ' 

"  But  they  aren't  worth  it!  They  can't 
be  —  good  enough !  ' :  Unbelieving  joy  was 
in  Billy's  voice. 

"No?  Well,  we'll  let  others  decide  that," 
observed  Cyril,  with  a  shrug.  "  All  is,  if 
you've  got  any  more  wood  —  like  this  —  I 
advise  you  to  make  it  up  right  away." 

'  *  But  I  have  already !  ' '  cried  the  girl,  ex- 
citedly. "  There  are  lots  of  little  things  that 
I've  —  that  is,  there  are  —  some,"  she  cor- 
rected hastily,  at  the  look  that  sprang  into 
Cyril's  eyes. 

"  Oh,  there  are,"  laughed  Cyril.  "  Well, 
we  '11  see  what  -  But  he  did  not  see.  He 
did  not  even  finish  his  sentence;  for  Billy's 
maid,  Eosa,  appeared  just  then  with  a  card. 

"  Show  Mr.  Calderwell  in  here,"  said 
Billy.  Cyril  said  nothing  —  aloud ;  which 
was  well.  His  thoughts,  just  then,  were  bet- 
ter left  unspoken. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

MABIE,   WHO  LONGS  TO  MAKE  PUDDINGS 

WONDERFUL  days  came  then  to  Billy.  Four 
songs,  it  seemed,  had  been  pronounced  by 
competent  critics  decidedly  ' '  worth  it  "  - 
unmistakably  "  good  enough  ";  and  they 
were  to  be  brought  out  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble. 

"  Of  course  you  understand,"  explained 
Cyril,  "  that  there's  no  *  hit  '  expected. 
Thank  heaven  they  aren't  that  sort!  And 
there's  no  great  money  in  it,  either.  You'd 
have  to  write  a  masterpiece  like  '  She's  my 
Ju-Ju  Baby  '  or  some  such  gem  to  get  the 
1  hit '  and  the  money.  But  the  songs  are  fine, 
and  they'll  take  with  cultured  hearers.  We'll 
get  them  introduced  by  good  singers,  of 
course,  and  they'll  be  favorites  soon  for  the 
concert  stage,  and  for  parlors." 

Billy  saw  a  good  deal  of  Cyril  now.    Al- 
224 


Marie  Longs  to  Make  Puddings  225 

ready  she  was  at  work  rewriting  and  polish- 
ing some  of  her  half -completed  melodies,  and 
Cyril  was  helping  her,  by  his  interest  as  well 
as  by  his  criticism.  He  was,  in  fact,  at  the 
house  very  frequently  —  too  frequently,  in- 
deed, to  suit  either  Bertram  or  Calderwell. 
Even  William  frowned  sometimes  when  his 
cozy  chats  with  Billy  were  interrupted  by 
Cyril's  appearing  with  a  roll  of  new  music 
for  her  to  '  *  try  ' ' ;  though  William  told  him- 
self that  he  ought  to  be  thankful  if  there  was 
anything  that  could  make  Cyril  more  com- 
panionable, less  reserved  and  morose.  And 
Cyril  was  different  —  there  was  no  disputing 
that.  Calderwell  said  that  he  had  come  ' '  out 
of  his  shell  ";  and  Bertram  told  Billy  that 
she  must  have  * '  found  his  note  and  struck  it 
good  and  hard." 

Billy  was  very  happy.  To  the  little  music 
teacher,  Marie  Hawthorn,  she  talked  more 
freely,  perhaps,  than  she  did  to  any  one  else. 

"It's  so  wonderful,  Marie  —  so  wonder- 
fully wonderful,"  she  said  one  day,  "  to  sit 
here  in  my  own  room  and  sing  a  little  song 
that  comes  from  somewhere,  anywhere,  out 


226  Miss  Billy 

of  the  sky  itself.  Then  by  and  by,  that  little 
song  will  fly  away,  away,  over  land  and  sea ; 
and  some  day  it  will  touch  somebody's  heart 
just  as  it  has  touched  mine.  Oh,  Marie,  is  it 
not  wonderful  ?  ' ' 

' '  It  is,  dear  —  and  it  is  not.  Your  songs 
could  not  help  reaching  somebody's  heart. 
There's  nothing  wonderful  in  that." 

"  Sweet  flatterer!  " 

11  But  I  mean  it.  They  are  beautiful ;  and 
so  is  —  Mr.  Henshaw's  music." 

'*  Yes,  it  is,"  murmured  Billy,  abstract- 
edly. 

There  was  a  long  pause,  then  Marie  asked 
with  shy  hesitation: 

"  Do  you  think,  Miss  Billy  —  that  he  would 
care  I  I  listened  yesterday  when  he  was  play- 
ing to  you.  I  was  up  here  in  your  room,  but 
when  I  heard  the  music  I  —  I  went  out  on  the 
stairs  and  sat  down.  Was  it  very  —  bad  of 
me?  " 

Billy  laughed  happily. 

"  If  it  was,  he  can't  say  anything,"  she  re- 
assured her.  "  He's  done  the  same  thing 
Jumself  —  and  so  have  I," 


Marie  Longs  to  Make  Puddings  227 

"  He  has  done  it!  " 

"  Yes.    It  was  at  his  home  last  Thanks 
giving.     It  was  then  that  he  found  out  — 
about  my  improvising." 

"  Oh-h!  "  Marie's  eyes  were  wistful. 
"  And  he  cares  so  much  now  for  your 
music!  " 

11  Does  he?  Do  you  think  he  does?  "  de- 
manded Billy. 

* '  I  know  he  does  —  and  for  the  one  who 
makes  it,  too." 

"  Nonsense!  "  laughed  Billy,  with  pinker 
cheeks.  "  It's  the  music,  not  the  musician, 
that  pleases  him.  Mr.  Cyril  doesn't  like 
women." 

"  He  doesn't  like  women!  " 

"  No.  But  don't  look  so  shocked,  my  dear. 
Every  one  who  knows  Mr.  Cyril  knows  that. ' ' 

"But  I  don't  think  — I  believe  it,"  de- 
murred Marie,  gazing  straight  into  Billy's 
eyes.  "I'm  sure  I  don't  believe  it." 

Under  the  little  music  teacher's  steady 
gaze  Billy  flushed  again.  The  laugh  she  gave 
was  an  embarrassed  one,  but  through  it  vi- 
brated a  pleased  ring. 


228  Miss  Billy 

"  Nonsense!  "  she  exclaimed,  springing  to 
her  feet  and  moving  restlessly  about  the 
room.  With  the  next  breath  she  had  changed 
the  subject  to  one  far  removed  from  Mr. 
Cyril  and  his  likes  and  dislikes. 

Some  time  later  Billy  played,  and  it  was 
then  that  Marie  drew  a  long  sigh. 

4 '  How  beautiful  it  must  be  to  play  —  like 
that,"  she  breathed. 

11  As  if  you,  a  music  teacher,  could  not 
play!  "  laughed  Billy. 

"  Not  like  that,  dear.  You  know  it  is  not 
like  that." 

Billy  frowned. 

"  But  you  are  so  accurate,  Marie,  and  you 
can  read  at  sight  so  rapidly!  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  like  a  little  machine,  I  know!  " 
scorned  the  usually  gentle  Marie,  bitterly. 
"  Don't  they  have  a  thing  of  metal  that  adds 
figures  like  magic?  .Well,  I'm  like  that.  I  see 
g  and  I  play  g;  I  see  d  and  I  play  d;  I  see 
/  and  I  play  /;  and  after  I've  seen  enough 
g's  and  d's  and  /'s  and  played  them  all,  the 
thing  is  done.  I've  played." 

"Why,  Marie!     Marie,  my  dear!"    The 


Marie  Longs  to  Make  Puddings  229 

second  exclamation  was  very  tender,  for 
Marie  was  crying. 

*  *  There !  I  knew  I  should  some  day  have 
it  out  —  all  out/'  sobbed  Marie.  "  I  felt  it 
coming. ' ' 

"  Then  perhaps  you'll  —  you'll  feel  bettei 
now,"  stammered  Billy.  She  tried  to  say 
more  —  other  words  that  would  have  been  a 
real  comfort;  but  her  tongue  refused  to 
speak  them.  She  knew  so  well,  so  woefully 
well,  how  very  wooden  and  mechanical  the 
little  music  teacher's  playing  always  had 
been.  But  that  Marie  should  realize  it 
herself  like  this  —  the  tragedy  of  it  made 
Billy's  heart  ache.  At  Marie's  next  words, 
however,  Billy  caught  her  breath  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  But  you  see  it  wasn't  music  —  it  wasn't 
ever  music  that  I  wanted  —  to  do, ' '  she  con- 
fessed. 

"It  wasn't  music!  But  what  —  I  don't 
understand,"  murmured  Billy. 

"  No,  I  suppose  not."  sighed  the  other. 
"  You  play  so  beautifully  yourself." 

'•'  But  I  thought  you  loved  music." 


230  Miss  Billy 

' '  I  do.  I  love  it  dearly  —  in  others. 
But  I  can't  —  I  don't  want  to  make  it  my- 
self." 

"  But  what  do  you  want  to  do?  " 

Marie  laughed  suddenly. 

"  Do  you  know,  my  dear,  I  have  half  a 
mind  to  tell  you  what  I  do  like  to  do  —  just 
to  make  you  stare." 

"  Well?  "  Billy's  eyes  were  wide  with  in- 
terest. 

' '  I  like  best  of  anything  to  —  darn  stock- 
ings and  make  puddings." 

"Marie!  " 

"  Bank  heresy,  isn't  it?  "  smiled  Marie, 
tearfully.  '  *  But  I  do,  truly.  I  love  to  weave 
the  threads  evenly  in  and  out,  and  see  a  big 
hole  close.  As  for  the  puddings  —  I  don't 
mean  the  common  bread-and-butter  kind,  but 
the  ones  that  have  whites  of  eggs  and  fruit, 
and  pretty  quivery  jellies  all  ruby  and  amber 
lights,  you  know." 

"  You  dear  little  piece  of  domesticity," 
laughed  Billy.  "  Then  why  in  the  world 
don't  you  do  these  things?  " 

"  I  can't,  in  my  own  kitchen;   I  oan't  af- 


Marie  Longs  to  Make  Puddings  231 

ford  a  kitchen  to  do  them  in.  And  I  just 
couldn't  do  them  —  right  along  —  in  other 
people's  kitchens." 

"  But  why  do  you  —  play?  " 

"  I  was  brought  up  to  it.  You  know  we 
had  money  once,  lots  of  it,"  sighed  Marie, 
as  if  she  were  deploring  a  misfortune. 
"  And  mother  was  determined  to  have  me 
musical.  Even  then,  as  a  little  tot,  I  liked 
pudding-making,  and  after  my  mud-pie  days  I 
was  always  begging  mother  to  let  me  go  down 
into  the  kitchen  to  cook.  But  she  wouldn't 
allow  it,  ever.  She  engaged  the  most  expen- 
sive masters  and  set  me  practising,  always 
practising.  I  simply  had  to  learn  music;  and 
I  learned  it  —  like  the  adding  machine.  Then 
afterward,  when  father  died,  and  then 
mother,  and  the  money  flew  away,  why,  of 
course  I  had  to  do  something,  so  naturally 
I  turned  to  the  music.  It  was  all  I  could  do. 
But  —  well,  you  know  how  it  is,  dear.  I 
teach,  and  teach  well,  perhaps,  so  far  as  the 
mechanical  part  goes;  but  as  for  the  rest  — 
I  am  always  longing  for  a  cozy  corner  with 
a  basket  of  stockings  to  mend,  or  a  kitchen 


232  Miss  Billy 

where   there   is   a   pudding   waiting   to   be 
made. ' ' 

"  You  poor  dear!  "  cried  Billy.  "  I've  a 
pair  of  stockings  now  that  needs  attention, 
and  I've  been  just  longing  for  one  of  your 
*  quivery  jellies  all  ruby  and  amber  lights  ' 
ever  since  you  mentioned  them.  But  —  well, 
is  there  anything  I  could  do  to  help?  " 

"  Nothing,  thank  you,"  sighed  Marie,  ris- 
ing wearily  to  her  feet,  and  covering  her  eyes 
with  her  hand  for  a  moment.  "  My  head 
aches  shockingly,  but  I've  got  to  go  this 
minute  and  instruct  little  Jennie  Knowls  how 
to  play  the  wonderful  scale  of  G  with  a  black 
key  in  it.  Besides,  you  do  help  me,  you  have 
helped  me,  you  are  always  helping  me,  dear," 
she  added  remorsefully;  "  and  it's  wicked  of 
me  to  make  that  shadow  come  to  your  eyes. 
Please  don't  think  of  it,  or  of  me,  any  more." 
And  with  a  choking  little  sob  she  hurried 
from  the  room,  followed  by  the  amazed,  ques- 
tioning, sorrowful  eyes  of  Billy. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 

"  I'M   GOING   TO   WIN  " 

NEARLY  all  of  Billy's  friends  knew  that 
Bertram  Henshaw  was  in  love  with  Billy 
Neilson  before  Billy  herself  knew  it.  Not 
that  they  regarded  it  as  anything  serious  — 
"  it's  only  Bertram  "  was  still  said  of  him 
on  almost  all  occasions.  But  to  Bertram 
himself  it  was  very  serious. 

The  world  to  Bertram,  indeed,  had  come  to 
assume  a  vastly  different  aspect  from  what 
it  had  displayed  in  times  past.  Heretofore 
it  had  been  a  plaything  which  like  a  juggler's 
tinsel  ball  might  be  tossed  from  hand  to  hand 
at  will.  Now  it  was  no  plaything  —  no  glit- 
tering bauble.  It  was  something  big  and 
serious  and  splendid  —  because  Billy  lived  in 
it;  something  that  demanded  all  his  powers 
to  do,  and  be  —  because  Billy  was  watching ; 

233 


234  Miss  Billy 

something  that  might  be  a  Hades  of  torment 
or  an  Elysium  of  bliss  —  according  to 
whether  Billy  said  "  no  "  or  "  yes." 

Since  Thanksgiving  Bertram  had  known 
that  it  was  love  —  this  consuming  fire  within 
him;  and  since  Thanksgiving  he  had  known, 
too,  that  it  was  jealousy  —  this  fierce  hatred 
of  Calderwell.  He  was  ashamed  of  the 
hatred.  He  told  himself  that  it  was  unmanly, 
unkind,  and  unreasonable;  and  he  vowed 
that  he  would  overcome  it.  At  times  he  even 
fancied  that  he  had  overcome  it ;  but  always 
the  sight  of  Calderwell  in  Billy's  little  draw- 
ing-room or  of  even  the  man's  card  on  Billy's 
silver  tray  was  enough  to  show  him  that  he 
had  not. 

There  were  others,  too,  who  annoyed  Ber- 
tram not  a  little,  foremost  of  these  being  his 
own  brothers.  Still  he  was  not  really  wor- 
ried about  William  and  Cyril,  he  told  himself. 
William  he  did  not  consider  to  be  a  marrying 
man ;  and  Cyril  —  every  one  knew  that  Cyril 
was  a  woman-hater.  He  was  doubtless  at- 
tracted now  only  by  Billy's  music.  There 
was  no  real  rivalry  to  be  feared  from  Will- 


li 


I'm  Going  to  Win  "          235 


iam  and  Cyril.  But  there  was  always  Calder- 
well,  and  Calderwell  was  serious.  Bertram 
decided,  therefore,  after  some  weeks  of  fever- 
ish unrest,  that  the  only  road  to  peace  lay 
through  a  frank  avowal  of  his  feelings,  and 
a  direct  appeal  to  Billy  to  give  him  the  great 
boon  of  her  love. 

Just  here,  however,  Bertram  met  with  an 
unexpected  difficulty.  He  could  not  find 
words  with  which  to  make  his  avowal  or  to 
present  his  appeal.  He  was  surprised  and 
annoyed.  Never  before  had  he  been  at  a  loss 
for  words  —  mere  words.  And  it  was  not 
that  he  lacked  opportunity.  He  walked, 
drove,  and  talked  with  Billy,  and  always  she 
was  companionable,  attentive  to  what  he  had 
to  say.  Never  was  she  cold  or  reserved. 
Never  did  she  fail  to  greet  him  with  a  cheery 
smile. 

Bertram  concluded,  indeed,  after  a  time, 
that  she  was  too  companionable,  too  cheery. 
He  wished  she  would  hesitate,  stammer, 
blush;  be  a  little  shy.  He  wished  that  she 
would  display  surprise,  annoyance,  even  — 
anything  but  that  eternal  air  of  comradeship. 


236  Miss  Billy 

And  then,  one  afternoon  in  the  early  twilight 
of  a  January  day,  he  freed  his  mind,  quite 
unexpectedly. 

"  Billy,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  be  so  —  so 
friendly!  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  voice  that  was 
almost  sharp. 

Billy  laughed  at  first,  but  the  next  moment 
a  shamed  distress  drove  the  merriment  quite 
out  of  her  face. 

' '  You  mean  that  I  presume  on  —  on  our 
friendship?  "  she  stammered.  "  That  you 
fear  that  I  will  again  —  shadow  your  foot- 
steps? "  It  was  the  first  time  since  the 
memorable  night  itself  that  Billy  had  ever  in 
Bertram's  presence  referred  to  her  young 
guardianship  of  his  welfare.  She  realized 
now,  suddenly,  that  she  had  just  been  giving 
the  man  before  her  some  very  "  sisterly  ad- 
vice," and  the  thought  sent  a  confused  red 
to  her  cheeks. 

Bertram  turned  quickly. 

11  Billy,  that  was  the  dearest  and  loveliest 
thing  a  girl  ever  did  —  only  I  was  too  great 
a  chump  to  appreciate  it  I  "  finished  Bertram 
in  a  voice  that  was  not  quite  steady. 


"I'm  Going  to  Win  "          237 

'  *  Thank  you, ' '  smiled  the  girl,  with  a  slow 
shake  of  her  head  and  a  relieved  look  in  her 
eyes;  "  but  I'm  afraid  I  can't  quite  agree  to 
that."  The  next  moment  she  had  demanded 
mischievously:  "  Why,  then,  pray,  this  un- 
flattering objection  to  my  —  friendliness 
now?  " 

"  Because  I  don't  want  you  for  a  friend, 
or  a  sister,  or  anything  else  that's  related," 
stormed  Bertram,  with  sudden  vehemence. 
"I  don't  want  you  for  anything  but  —  a 
wife!  Billy,  won't  you  marry  me?  ' 

Again  Billy  laughed  —  laughed  until  she 
saw  the  pained  anger  leap  to  the  gray  eyes 
before  her;  then  she  became  grave  at 
once. 

11  Bertram,  forgive  me.  I  didn't  think  you 
could  —  you  can't  be  —  serious !  ' 

"  But  I  am." 

Billy  shook  her  head. 

"  But  you  don't  love  me  —  not  me,  Ber- 
tram. It's  only  the  turn  of  my  head  or  — 
or  the  tilt  of  my  chin  that  you  love  —  to 
paint,"  she  protested,  unconsciously  echoing 
the  words  Calderwell  had  said  to  her  weeks 


238  Miss  Billy 

before.  "  I'm  only  another  '  Face  of  a 
Girl.'  " 

"  You're  the  only  '  Face  of  a  Girl  '  to  me 
now,  Billy,"  declared  the  man,  with  disarm- 
ing tenderness. 

"  No,  no,  not  that,"  demurred  Billy,  in  dis- 
tress. "  You  don't  mean  it.  You  only  think 
you  do.  It  couldn't  be  that.  It  can't  be!' 

1 '  But  it  is,  dear.  I  think  I  have  loved  you 
ever  since  that  night  long  ago  when  I  saw 
your  dear,  startled  face  appealing  to  me  from 
beyond  Seaver's  hateful  smile.  And,  Billy, 
I  never  went  once  with  Seaver  again  —  any- 
where. Did  you  know  that?  " 

"No;  but  —  I'm  glad  —  so  glad!  " 

"  And  I'm  glad,  too.  So  you  see,  I  must 
have  loved  you  then,  though  unconsciously, 
perhaps ;  and  I  love  you  now. ' ' 

"  No,  no,  please  don't  say  that.  It  can't 
be  —  it  really  can't  be.  I  —  I  don't  love  you 
—  that  way,  Bertram." 

The  man  paled  a  little. 

"  Billy  —  forgive  me  for  asking,  but  it's 
so  much  to  me  —  is  it  that  there  is  —  some 
one  else?  "  His  voice  shook. 


t( 


I'm  Going  to  Win  "          239 


"  No,  no,  indeed!    There  is  no  one." 

''It's  not  — Calderwellt  " 

Billy's  forehead  grew  pink.  She  laughed 
nervously. 

"  No,  no,  never!  r 

"  But  there  are  others,  so  many  others!  " 

"  Nonsense,  Bertram;  there's  no  one  — 
no  one,  I  assure  you!  " 

"  It's  not  William,  of  course,  nor  Cyril. 
Cyril  hates  women." 

A  deeper  flush  came  to  Billy's  face.  Her 
chin  rose  a  little ;  and  an  odd  defiance  flashed 
from  her  eyes.  But  almost  instantly  it 
was  gone,  and  a  slow  smile  had  come  to  her 
lips. 

"Yes,  I  know.  Every  one  —  says  that 
Cyril  hates  women,"  she  observed  demurely. 

"  Then,  Billy,  I  sha'n't  give  up!  "  vowed 
Bertram,  softly.  "  Sometime  you  will  love 
me!" 

"  No,  no,  I  couldn't.  That  is,  I'm  not  go- 
ing to  —  to  marry,"  stammered  Billy. 

"  Not  going  to  marry!  " 

' '  No.  There 's  my  music  —  you  know  how 
I  love  that,  and  how  much  it  is  to  me.  I 


240  Miss  Billy 

don't  think  there'll  ever  be  a  man  —  that  I'll 
love  better." 

Bertram  lifted  his  head.  Very  slowly  he 
rose  till  his  splendid  six  feet  of  clean-limbed 
strength  and  manly  beauty  towered  away 
above  the  low  chair  in  which  Billy  sat.  His 
mouth  showed  new  lines  about  the  corners, 
and  his  eyes  looked  down  very  tenderly  at  the 
girl  beside  him ;  but  his  voice,  when  he  spoke, 
had  a  light  whimsicality  that  deceived  even 
Billy's  ears. 

"  And  so  it's  music  —  a  cold,  senseless 
thing  of  spidery  marks  on  clean  white  paper 
—  that  is  my  only  rival,"  he  cried.  "  Then 
I'll  warn  you,  Billy,  I'll  warn  you.  I'm  go- 
ing to  win !  ' '  And  with  that  he  was  gone. 


CHAPTER   XXIX 

"I'M    NOT   GOING   TO   MAKEY  " 

BILLY  did  not  know  whether  to  be  more 
amazed  or  amused  at  Bertram's  proposal  of 
marriage.  She  was  vexed;  she  was  very 
sure  of  that.  To  marry  Bertram?  Absurd! 
.  .  .  Then  she  reflected  that,  after  all,  it  was 
only  Bertram,  so  she  calmed  herself. 

Still,  it  was  annoying.  She  liked  Bertram, 
she  had  always  liked  him.  He  was  a  nice 
boy,  and  a  most  congenial  companion.  He 
never  bored  her,  as  did  some  others;  and  he 
was  always  thoughtful  of  cushions  and  foot- 
stools and  cups  of  tea  when  one  was  tired. 
He  was,  in  fact,  an  ideal  friend,  just  the  sort 
she  wanted;  and  it  was  such  a  pity  that  he 
must  spoil  it  all  now  with  this  silly  sentimen- 
tality! And  of  course  he  had  spoiled  it  all. 
Tt.ere  was  no  going  back  now  to  their  old 
friendliness.  He  would  be  morose  or  silly  by 

241 


242  Miss  Billy 

turns,  according  to  whether  she  frowned  or 
smiled;  or  else  he  would  take  himself  off  in 
a  tragic  sort  of  way  that  was  very  disturb- 
ing. He  had  said,  to  be  sure,  that  he  would 
' '  win. ' '  Win,  indeed !  As  if  she  could 
marry  Bertram!  When  she  married,  her 
choice  would  fall  upon  a  man,  not  a  boy;  a 
big,  grave,  earnest  man  to  whom  the  world 
meant  something;  a  man  who  loved  music, 
of  course;  a  man  who  would  single  her  out 
from  all  the  world,  and  show  to  her,  and  to 
her  only,  the  depth  and  tenderness  of  his 
love ;  a  man  who  —  but  she  was  not  going  to 
marry,  anyway,  remembered  Billy,  suddenly. 
And  with  that  she  began  to  cry.  The  whole 
thing  was  so  "  tiresome,'*  she  declared,  and 
so  "  absurd." 

Billy  rather  dreaded  her  next  meeting  with 
Bertram.  She  feared  —  she  knew  not  what. 
But,  as  it  turned  out,  she  need  not  have 
feared  anything,  for  he  met  her  tranquilly, 
cheerfully,  as  usual ;  and  he  did  nothing  and 
said  nothing  that  he  might  not  have  done 
and  said  before  that  twilight  chat  took 
place. 


"I'm  Not  Going  to  Harry  " 


Billy  was  relieved.  She  concluded  that, 
after  all,  Bertram  was  going  to  be  sensible. 
She  decided  that  she,  too,  would  be  sensible. 
She  would  accept  him  on  this,  his  chosen 
plane,  and  she  would  think  no  more  of  his 
"  nonsense." 

Billy  threw  herself  then  even  more  enthu- 
siastically into  her  beloved  work.  She  told 
Marie  that  after  all  was  said  and  done,  there 
could  not  be  any  man  that  would  tip  the 
scales  one  inch  with  music  on  the  other  side. 
She  was  a  little  hurt,  it  is  true,  when  Marie 
only  laughed  and  answered: 

11  But  what  if  the  man  and  the  music  both 
happen  to  be  on  the  same  side,  my  dear; 
what  then?  " 

Marie's  voice  was  wistful,  in  spite  of  the 
laugh  —  so  wistful  that  it  reminded  Billy 
of  their  conversation  a  few  weeks  be- 
fore. 

' '  But  it  is  you,  Marie,  who  want  the  stock- 
ings to  darn  and  the  puddings  to  make,"  she 
retorted  playfully.  "  Not  I!  And,  do  you 
know?  I  believe  I  shall  turn  matchmaker 
yet,  and  find  you  a  man ;  and  the  chief est  of 


£44  Miss  Billy 

Ms  qualifications  shall  be  that  he's  wretch- 
edly hard  on  his  hose,  and  that  he  adores 
puddings. ' ' 

11  No,  no,  Miss  Billy,  don't,  please!  " 
begged  the  other,  in  quick  terror.  "  Forget 
all  I  said  the  other  day;  please  do!  Don't 
tell  —  anybody !  ' 

She  was  so  obviously  distressed  and 
frightened  that  Billy  was  puzzled. 

"  There,  there,  'twas  only  a  jest,  of 
course,"  she  soothed  her.  "  But,  really 
Marie,  it  is  the  dear,  domestic  little  mouse 
like  yourself  that  ought  to  be  somebody's 
wife  —  and  that's  the  kind  men  are  looking 
for,  too." 

Marie  gave  a  slow  shake  of  her  head. 

"  Not  the  kind  of  man  that  is  somebody, 
that  does  something,"  she  objected;  "  and 
that's  the  only  kind  I  could  —  love.  He 
wants  a  wife  that  is  beautiful  and  clever, 
that  can  do  things  like  himself  —  like  him- 
self! "  she  iterated  feverishly. 

Billy  opened  wide  her  eyes. 

' '  Why,  Marie,  one  would  think  —  you  al 
ready  knew  —  such  a  man,"  she  cried. 


"  I'm  Not  Going  to  Marry  "     245 

The  little  music  teacher  changed  her  posi- 
tion, and  turned  her  eyes  away. 

"  I  do,  of  course,"  she  retorted  in  a  merry 
voice,  "  lots  of  them.  Don't  you?  Come, 
we've  discussed  my  matrimonial  prospects 
quite  long  enough,"  she  went  on  lightly. 
"  You  know  we  started  with  yours.  Suppose 
we  go  back  to  those." 

"  But  I  haven't  any,"  demurred  Billy,  as 
she  turned  with  a  smile  to  greet  Aunt  Han- 
nah, who  had  just  entered  the  room.  "I'm 
not  going  to  marry;  am  I,  Aunt  Hannah?  " 

"  Er  —  what  ?  Marry  ?  My  grief  and  con- 
science, what  a  question,  Billy!  Of  course 
you're  going  to  marry  —  when  the  time 
comes !  ' '  exclaimed  Aunt  Hannah. 

Billy  laughed  and  shook  her  head  vigor- 
ously. But  even  as  she  opened  her  lips  to 
reply,  Eosa  appeared  and  announced  that 
Mr.  Calderwell  was  waiting  down-stairs. 
Billy  was  angry  then,  for  after  the  maid  was 
gone,  the  merriment  in  Aunt  Hannah's  laugh 
only  matched  that  in  Marie 's  —  and  the  in- 
tonation was  unmistakable. 

"  Well,  I'm  not !  "  declared  Billy  with  pink 


246  Miss  Billy 

cheeks  and  much  indignation,  as  she  left  the 
room.  And  as  if  to  convince  herself,  Marie, 
Aunt  Hannah,  and  all  the  world  that  such 
was  the  case,  she  refused  Calderwell  so 
decidedly  that  night  when  he,  for  the  half- 
dozenth  time,  laid  his  hand  and  heart  at  her 
feet,  that  even  Calderwell  himself  was  con- 
vinced —  so  far  as  his  own  case  was  con- 
cerned—  and  left  town  the  next  day. 

Bertram  told  Aunt  Hannah  afterward  that 
he  understood  Mr.  Calderwell  had  gone  to 
parts  unknown.  To  himself  Bertram  shame- 
lessly owned  that  the  more  "  unknown  ' 
they  were,  the  better  he  himself  would  be 
pleased. 


CHAPTER   XXX 

MARIE   FINDS   A   FRIEND 

IT  was  on  a  very  cold  January  afternoon, 
and  Cyril  was  hurrying  up  the  hill  toward 
Billy's  house,  when  he  was  startled  to  see  a 
slender  young  woman  sitting  on  a  curbstone 
with  her  head  against  an  electric-light  post. 
He  stopped  abruptly. 

' '  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  —  why,  Miss 
Hawthorn!  It  is  Miss  Hawthorn;  isn't 
it?" 

Under  his  questioning  eyes  the  girl's  pale 
face  became  so  painfully  scarlet  that  in  sheer 
pity  the  man  turned  his  eyes  away.  He 
thought  he  had  seen  women  blush  before,  but 
he  decided  now  that  he  had  not. 

"I'm  sure  —  haven't  I  met  you  at  Miss 
Neilson's?  Are  you  ill?  Can't  I  do  some- 
thing for  you?  "  he  begged. 

'  *  Yes  —  no  —  that   is,  I   am  Miss   Haw- 

247 


248  Miss  Billy 

thorn,  and  I've  met  you  at  Miss  Neilson's," 
stammered  the  girl,  faintly.  "  But  there 
isn't  anything,  thank  you,  that  you  can  do  — 
Mr.  Henshaw.  I  stopped  to  —  rest.'* 

The  man  frowned. 

"But,  surely  —  pardon  me,  Miss  Haw- 
thorn, but  I  can't  think  it  your  usual  custom 
to  choose  an  icy  curbstone  for  a  resting  place, 
with  the  thermometer  down  to  zero.  You 
must  be  ill.  Let  me  take  you  to  Miss  Neil- 
son's." 

"  No,  no,  thank  you,"  cried  the  girl,  strug- 
gling to  her  feet,  the  vivid  red  again  flooding 
her  face.  "  I  have  a  lesson  —  to  give." 

"  Nonsense!  You're  not  fit  to  give  a  les- 
son. Besides,  they  are  all  folderol,  anyway, 
half  of  them.  A  dozen  lessons,  more  or  less, 
won't  make  any  difference;  they'll  play  just 
as  well  —  and  just  as  atrociously.  Come,  I 
insist  upon  taking  you  to  Miss  Neilson's." 

"No,  no,  thank  you!  I  really  mustn't. 
I — "  She  could  say  no  more.  A  strong, 
yet  very  gentle  hand  had  taken  firm  hold  of 
her  arm  in  such  a  way  as  half  to  support  her. 
A  force  quite  outside  of  herself  was  carrying 


Marie  Finds  a  Friend  249 

her  forward  step  by  step  —  and  Miss  Haw- 
thorn was  not  used  to  strong,  gentle  hands, 
nor  yet  to  a  force  quite  outside  of  herself. 
Neither  was  she  accustomed  to  walk  arm  in 
arm  with  Mr.  Cyril  Henshaw  to  Miss  Billy's 
door.  When  she  reached  there  her  cheeks 
were  like  red  roses  for  color,  and  her  eyes 
were  like  the  stars  for  brightness.  Yet  a 
minute  later,  confronted  by  Miss  Billy's  as- 
tonished eyes,  the  stars  and  the  roses  fled, 
and  a  very  white-faced  girl  fell  over  in  a 
deathlike  faint  in  Cyril  Henshaw 's  arms. 

Marie  was  put  to  bed  in  the  little  room 
next  to  Billy's,  and  was  peremptorily  hushed 
when  faint  remonstrance  was  made.  The 
next  morning,  white-faced  and  wide-eyed, 
she  resolutely  pulled  herself  half  upright, 
and  announced  that  she  was  all  well  and  must 
go  home  —  home  to  Marie  was  a  six-by-nine 
hall  bed-room  in  a  South  End  lodging  house. 

Very  gently  Billy  pushed  her  back  on  the 
pillow  and  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  her  arm. 

"  No,  dear.  Now,  please  be  sensible  and 
listen  to  reason.  You  are  my  guest.  You 
did  not  know  it,  perhaps,  for  I'm  afraid  the 


250  Miss  Billy 

invitation  got  a  little  delayed.     But  you're 
to  stay  —  oh,  lots  of  weeks. ' ' 

"  I  —  stay  here?  Why,  I  can't  —  indeed, 
I  can't;  "  protested  Marie. 

"  But  that  isn't  a  bit  of  a  nice  way  to  ac- 
cept    an     invitation,"     disapproved     Billy. 
"  You  should  say,  '  Thank  you,  I'd  be  de 
lighted,  I'm  sure,  and  I'll  stay.'  " 

In  spite  of  herself  the  little  music  teacher 
laughed,  and  in  the  laugh  her  tense  muscles 
relaxed. 

"  Miss  Billy,  Miss  Billy,  what  is  one  to  do 
with  you?  Surely  you  know  —  you  must 
know  that  I  can't  do  what  you  ask!  " 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  see  why  not,"  argued 
Billy.  "I'm  merely  giving  you  an  invitation 
and  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  accept  it." 

"  But  the  invitation  is  only  the  kind  way 
your  heart  has  of  covering  another  of  your 
many  charities,"  objected  Marie;  "  besides, 
I  have  to  teach.  I  have  my  living  to  earn." 

"  But  you  can't,"  demurred  the  other. 
"  That's  just  the  trouble.  Don't  you  see? 
The  doctor  said  last  night  that  you  must  not 
teach  again  this  winter." 


Marie  Finds  a  Friend  251 

' '  Not  teach  —  again  —  this  winter !  No, 
no,  he  could  not  be  so  cruel  as  that!  " 

11  It  wasn't  cruel,  dear;  it  was  kind.  You 
would  be  ill  if  you  attempted  it.  Now  you'll 
get  better.  He  says  all  you  need  is  rest  and 
care  —  and  that's  exactly  what  I  mean  my 
guest  shall  have." 

Quick  tears  came  to  the  sick  girl's  eyes. 

"  There  couldn't  be  a  kinder  heart  than 
yours,  Miss  Billy,"  she  murmured,  "  but  I 
couldn't  —  I  really  couldn't  be  a  burden  to 
you  like  this.  I  shall  go  to  some  hospital." 

"  But  you  aren't  going  to  be  a  burden. 
You  are  going  to  be  my  friend  and  compan- 
ion." 

"  A  companion  —  and  in  bed  like  this?  ' 

"  Well,  that  wouldn't  be  impossible," 
smiled  Billy;  "  but,  as  it  happens  you  won't 
have  to  put  that  to  the  test,  for  you'll  soon  be 
up  and  dressed.  The  doctor  says  so.  Now 
surely  you  will  stay." 

There  was  a  long  pause.  The  little  music 
teacher's  eyes  had  left  Billy's  face  and  were 
circling  the  room,  wistfully  lingering  on  the 
hangings  of  filmy  lace,  the  dainty  wall 


252  Miss  Billy 

covering,  and  the  exquisite  water  colors  in 
their  white-and-gold  frames.  At  last  she 
drew  a  deep  sigh. 

11  Yes,  I'll  stay,"  she  breathed  raptu- 
rously; "  but  —  you  must  let  me  help." 

1  'Help?    Help  what!" 

' '  Help  you ;  your  letters,  your  music-copy- 
ing, your  accounts  —  anything,  everything. 
And  if  you  don't  let  me  help,"  —  the  music 
teacher's  voice  was  very  stern  now  — "  if 
you  don't  let  me  help,  I  shall  go  home  just  — 
as  —  soon  —  as  —  I  —  can  —  walk !  ' ' 

"  Dear  me !  "  dimpled  Billy.  "  And  is  that 
all?  Well,  you  shall  help,  and  to  your  heart's 
content,  too.  In  fact,  I'm  not  at  all  sure  that 
I  sha'n't  keep  you  darning  stockings  and 
making  puddings  all  the  time,"  she  added 
mischievously,  as  she  left  the  room. 

Miss  Hawthorn  sat  up  the  next  day.  The 
day  following,  in  one  of  Billy's  "  fluttery 
wrappers,"  as  she  called  them,  she  walked 
all  about  the  room.  Very  soon  she  was  able 
to  go  down-stairs,  and  in  an  astonishingly 
short  time  she  fitted  into  the  daily  life  as  if 
she  had  alwavs  been  there.  She  was,  more- 


Marie  Finds  a  Friend  253 

over,  of  such  assistance  to  Billy  that  even 
she  herself  could  see  the  value  of  her  work; 
and  so  she  stayed,  content. 

The  little  music  teacher  saw  a  good  deal 
of  Billy's  friends  then,  particularly  of  the 
Henshaw  brothers ;  and  very  glad  was  Billy 
to  see  the  comradeship  growing  between 
them.  She  had  known  that  William  would  be 
kind  to  the  orphan  girl,  but  she  had  feared 
that  Marie  would  not  understand  Bertram's 
nonsense  or  Cyril's  reserve.  But  very  soon 
Bertram  had  begged,  and  obtained,  permi? 
sion  to  try  to  reproduce  on  canvas  the  sheen 
of  the  fine,  fair  hair,  and  the  veiled  bloom  of 
the  rose-leaf  skin  that  were  Marie's  greatest 
charms ;  and  already  Cyril  had  unbent  from 
his  usual  stiffness  enough  to  play  to  her 
twice.  So  Billy 's  fears  on  that  score  were  at 
an  end. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THE   ENGAGEMENT   OP   ONE 

MANY  times  during  those  winter  days  Billy 
thought  of  Marie's  words:  "  But  what  if 
the  man  and  the  music  both  happen  to  be  on 
the  same  side  I  ' '  They  worried  her,  to  some 
extent,  and,  curiously,  they  pleased  and  dis- 
pleased her  at  the  same  time. 

She  told  herself  that  she  knew  very  well, 
of  course,  what  Marie  meant :  it  was  Cyril ; 
he  was  the  man,  and  the  music.  But  was 
Cyril  beginning  to  care  for  her ;  and  did  she 
want  him  to!  Very  seriously  one  day  Billy 
asked  herself  these  questions;  very  calmly 
she  argued  the  matter  in  her  mind  —  as  was 
Billy's  way. 

She  was  proud,  certainly,  of  what  her  in- 
fluence had  apparently  done  for  Cyril.  She 
was  gratified  that  to  her  he  was  showing  the 

254 


The  Engagement  of  One         255 

real  depth  and  beauty  of  his  nature.  It  was 
flattering  to  feel  that  she,  and  only  she,  had 
thus  won  the  regard  of  a  professional  woman- 
hater.  Then,  besides  all  this,  there  was  his 
music  —  his  glorious  music.  Think  of  the 
bliss  of  living  ever  with  that!  Imagine  life 
with  a  man  whose  soul  would  be  so  perfectly 
attuned  to  hers  that  existence  would  be  one 
grand  harmony!  Ah,  that,  truly,  would  be 
the  ideal  marriage !  But  she  had  planned  not 
to  marry.  Billy  frowned  now,  and  tapped 
her  foot  nervously.  It  was,  indeed,  most 
puzzling  —  this  question,  and  she  did  not 
want  to  make  a  mistake.  Then,  too,  she  did 
not  wish  to  wound  Cyril.  If  the  dear  man 
had  come  out  of  his  icy  prison,  and  were 
reaching  out  timid  hands  to  her  for  her  help, 
her  interest,  her  love  —  the  tragedy  of  it,  if 
he  met  with  no  response!  ....  This 
vision  of  Cyril  with  outstretched  hands,  and 
of  herself  with  cold,  averted  eyes  was  the  last 
straw  in  the  balance  with  Billy.  She  decided 
suddenly  that  she  did  care  for  Cyril  —  a 
little;  and  that  she  probably  could  care  for 
Mm  a  great  deal.  With  this  thought,  Billy 


Miss  Billy 


blushed  —  already  in  her  own  mind  she  was 
as  good  as  pledged  to  Cyril. 

It  was  a  great  change  for  Billy  —  this 
sudden  leap  from  girlhood  and  irresponsi- 
bility to  womanhood  and  care;  but  she  took 
it  fearlessly,  resolutely.  If  she  was  to  be 
Cyril's  wife  she  must  make  herself  fit  for  it 
—  and  in  pursuance  of  this  high  ideal  she 
followed  Marie  into  the  kitchen  the  very  next 
time  the  little  music  teacher  went  out  to  make 
one  of  her  dainty  desserts  that  the  family 
liked  so  well. 

11  I'll  just  watch,  if  you  don't  mind,"  an- 
nounced Billy. 

"  Why,  of  course  not,"  smiled  Marie, 
"  but  I  thought  you  didn't  like  to  make  pud- 
dings." 

"  I  don't,"  owned  Billy,  cheerfully. 

"  Then  why  this  —  watchfulness?  ' 

"  Nothing,  only  I  thought  it  might  be  just 
as  well  if  I  knew  how  to  make  them.  You 
know  how  Cyril  —  that  is,  all  the  Henshaw 
boys  like  every  kind  you  make." 

The  egg  in  Marie's  hand  shipped  from  her 
fingers  and  crashed  untidily  on  the  shelf. 


The  Engagement  of  One         257 

With  a  gleeful  laugh  Billy  welcomed  the 
diversion.  She  had  not  meant  to  speak  so 
plainly.  It  was  one  thing  to  try  to  fit  herself 
to  be  Cyril's  wife,  and  quite  another  to  dis- 
play those  efforts  so  openly  before  the  world. 

The  pudding  was  made  at  last,  but  Marie 
proved  to  be  a  nervous  teacher.  Her  hand 
shook,  and  her  memory  almost  failed  her  at 
one  or  two  critical  points.  Billy  laughingly 
said  that  it  must  be  stage  fright,  owing  to 
the  presence  of  herself  as  spectator;  and 
with  this  Marie  promptly,  and  somewhat 
effusively,  agreed. 

So  very  busy  was  Billy  during  the  next 
few  days,  acquiring  her  new  domesticity, 
that  she  did  not  notice  how  little  she  was 
seeing  of  Cyril.  Then  she  suddenly  realized 
it,  and  asked  herself  the  reason  for  it.  Cyril 
was  at  the  house  certainly,  just  as  frequently 
as  he  had  been ;  but  she  saw  that  a  new  shy- 
ness in  herself  had  developed  which  was  caus- 
ing her  to  be  restless  in  his  presence,  and  was 
leading  her  to  like  better  to  have  Marie  or 
Aunt  Hannah  in  the  room  when  he  called. 
She  discovered,  too,  that  she  welcomed  "Will- 


258  Miss  Billy 

iam,  and  even  Bertram,  with  peculiar  enthu- 
siasm—  if  they  happened  to  interrupt  a 
tete-a-tete  with  Cyril. 

Billy  was  disturbed  at  this.  She  told  her- 
self that  this  shyness  was  not  strange,  per- 
haps, inasmuch  as  her  ideas  in  regard  to  love 
and  marriage  had  undergone  so  abrupt  a 
change ;  but  it  must  be  overcome.  If  she  was 
to  be  Cyril's  wife,  she  must  like  to  be  with 
him  —  and  of  course  she  really  did  like  to  be 
with  him,  for  she  had  enjoyed  his  companion- 
ship very  much  during  all  these  past  weeks. 
She  set  herself  therefore,  now,  determinedly 
to  cultivating  Cyril. 

It  was  then  that  Billy  made  a  strange  and 
fearsome  discovery :  there  were  some  things 
about  Cyril  that  she  did  —  not  —  like! 

Billy  was  inexpressibly  shocked.  Hereto- 
fore he  had  been  so  high,  so  irreproachable, 
so  god-like !  —  but  heretofore  he  had  been  a 
friend.  Now  he  was  appearing  in  a  new  role 
—  though  unconsciously,  she  knew.  Hereto- 
fore she  had  looked  at  him  with  eyes  that  saw 
only  the  delightful  and  marvelous  unfolding 
of  a  coldly  reserved  nature  under  the  warmth 


The  Engagement  of  One         259 

of  her  own  encouraging  smile.  Now  she 
looked  at  him  with  eyes  that  saw  only  the 
possibilities  of  that  same  nature  when  it 
should  have  been  unfolded  in  a  lifelong 
companionship.  And  what  she  saw  fright- 
ened her.  There  was  still  the  music  —  she 
acknowledged  that ;  but  it  had  come  to  Billy 
with  overwhelming  force  that  music,  after  all, 
was  not  everything.  The  man  counted,  as 
well.  Very  frankly  then  Billy  stated  the  case 
to  herself. 

11  "What  passes  for  '  fascinating  mystery  ' 
in  him  now  will  be  plain  moroseness  —  some- 
time. He  is  'taciturn*  now;  he'll  be  — 
cross,  then.  It  is  '  erratic  '  when  he  won't 
play  the  piano  to-day ;  but  a  few  years  from 
now,  when  he  refuses  some  simple  request  of 
mine,  it  will  be  —  stubbornness.  All  this  it 
will  be  —  if  I  don 't  love  him ;  and  I  don 't.  I 
know  I  don't.  Besides,  we  aren't  really  con- 
genial. I  like  people  around;  he  doesn't.  I 
like  to  go  to  plays;  he  doesn't.  He  likes 
rainy  days;  I  abhor  them.  There  is  no 
doubt  of  it  —  life  with  him  would  not  be  one 
grand  harmony;  it  would  be  one  jangling 


260  Miss  Billy 

discord.  I  simply  cannot  marry  him.  I  shall 
have  to  break  the  engagement!  " 

Billy  spoke  with  regretful  sorrow.  It  was 
evident  that  she  grieved  to  bring  pain  to 
Cyril.  Then  suddenly  the  gloom  left  her 
face :  she  had  remembered  that  the  ' '  engage- 
ment "  was  just  three  weeks  old  —  and  was  a 
profound  secret,  not  only  to  the  bridegroom 
elect,  but  to  all  the  world  as  well  —  save  her- 
self! 

Billy  was  very  happy  after  that.  She 
sang  about  the  house  all  day,  and  she  danced 
sometimes  from  room  to  room,  so  light  were 
her  feet  and  her  heart.  She  made  no  more 
puddings  with  Marie's  supervision,  but  she 
was  particularly  careful  to  have  the  little 
music  teacher  or  Aunt  Hannah  with  her  when 
Cyril  called.  She  made  up  her  mind,  it  is 
true,  that  she  had  been  mistaken,  and  that 
Cyril  did  not  love  her ;  still  she  wished  to  be 
on  the  safe  side,  and  she  became  more  and 
more  averse  to  being  left  alone  with  him  for 
any  length  of  time. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

CYRIL   HAS   SOMETHING   TO   SAY 

LONG  before  spring  Billy  was  forced  to  own 
to  herself  that  her  fancied  security  from  love- 
making  on  the  part  of  Cyril  no  longer  existed. 
She  began  to  suspect  that  there  was  reason 
for  her  fears.  Cyril  certainly  was  "  differ- 
ent." He  was  more  approachable,  less  re- 
served, even  with  Marie  and  Aunt  Hannah. 
He  was  not  nearly  so  taciturn,  either,  and  he 
was  much  more  gracious  about  his  playing. 
Even  Marie  dared  to  ask  him  frequently  for 
music,  and  he  never  refused  her  request. 
Three  times  he  had  taken  Billy  to  some  play 
that  she  wanted  to  see,  and  he  had  invited 
Marie,  too,  besides  Aunt  Hannah,  which  had 
pleased  Billy  very  much.  He  had  been  at  the 
same  time  so  genial  and  so  gallant  that  Billy 
Had  declared  to  Marie  afterward  that  he  did 
not  seem  like  himself  at  all,  but  like  some  one 
else. 

261 


262  Miss  Billy 

Marie  had  disagreed  with  her,  it  is  true, 
and  had  said  stiffly : 

"I'm  sure  I  thought  he  seemed  very  much 
like  himself."  But  that  had  not  changed 
Billy's  opinion  at  all. 

To  Billy's  mind,  nothing  but  love  could  so 
have  softened  the  stern  Cyril  she  had  known. 
She  was,  therefore,  all  the  more  careful  these 
days  to  avoid  a  tete-a-tete  with  him,  though 
she  was  not  always  successful,  particularly 
owing  to  Marie 's  unaccountable  perverseness 
in  so  often  having  letters  to  write  or  work  to 
do,  just  when  Billy  most  wanted  her  to  make 
a  safe  third  with  herself  and  Cyril.  It  was 
upon  such  an  occasion,  after  Marie  had 
abruptly  left  them  alone  together,  that  Cyril 
had  observed,  a  little  sharply: 

"  Billy,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  say  again 
what  you  said  ten  minutes  ago  when  Miss 
Marie  was  here." 

"  What  was  that?  " 

"  A  very  silly  reference  to  that  old  notion 
that  you  and  every  one  else  seem  to  have 
that  I  am  a  '  woman-hater. ' 

Billy's  heart  skipped  a  beat.    One  thought 


Cyril  Has  Something  to  Say     263 

pounded  through  her  brain  and  dinned  itself 
into  her  ears  —  at  all  costs  Cyril  must  not  be 
allowed  to  say  that  which  she  so  feared;  he 
must  be  saved  from  himself. 

"  Woman-hater?  Why,  of  course  you're  a 
woman-hater,"  she  cried  merrily.  "I'm 
sure,  I  —  I  think  it's  lovely  to  be  a  woman- 
hater." 

The  man  opened  wide  his  eyes;  then  he 
frowned  angrily. 

' '  Nonsense,  Billy,  I  know  better.  Besides, 
I'm  in  earnest,  and  I'm  not  a  woman-hater." 

"  Oh,  but  every  one  says  you  are,"  chat- 
tered Billy.  '  *  And,  after  all,  you  know  it  is 
distinguishing!  ' 

With  a  disdainful  exclamation  the  man 
sprang  to  his  feet.  For  a  time  he  paced  the 
room  in  silence,  watched  by  Billy's  fearful 
eyes;  then  he  came  back  and  dropped  into 
the  low  chair  at  Billy's  side.  His  whole 
manner  had  undergone  a  complete  change. 
He  was  almost  shamefaced  as  he  said: 

"  Billy,  I  suppose  I  might  as  well  own  up. 
I  don't  think  I  did  think  much  of  women  until 
I  saw  —  you." 


264  Miss  Billy 

Billy  swallowed  and  wet  her  lips.  She 
tried  to  speak ;  but  before  she  could  form  the 
'W'ords  the  man  went  on  with  his  remarks ;  and 
Billy  did  not  know  whether  to  be  the  more 
relieved  or  frightened  thereat. 

"  But  you  see  now  it's  different.  That's 
why  I  don't  like  to  sail  any  longer  under 
false  colors.  There's  been  a  change  —  a 
great  and  wonderful  change  that  I  hardly 
understand  myself." 

11  That's  it!  You  don't  understand  it,  I'm 
sure,"  interposed  Billy,  feverishly.  "  It  may 
not  be  such  a  change,  after  all.  You  may  be 
deceiving  yourself,"  she  finished  hopefully. 

The  man  sighed. 

"  I  can't  wonder  you  think  so,  of  course," 
he  almost  groaned.  "  I  was  afraid  it  would 
be  like  that.  When  one's  been  painted  black 
all  one's  life,  it's  not  ^asy  to  change  one's 
color,  of  course." 

"  Oh,  but  I  didn't  say  that  black  wasn't  a 
very  nice  color,"  stammered  Billy,  a  little 
wildly. 

11  Thank  you."  Cyril's  heavy  brows  rose 
and  fell  the  fraction  of  an  inch.  "  Still,  I 


Cyril  Has  Something  to  Say     265 

must  confess  that  just  now  I  should  prefer 
another  shade." 

He  paused,  and  Billy  cast  distractedly 
about  in  her  mind  for  a  simple,  natural 
change  of  subject.  She  had  just  decided  to 
ask  him  what  he  thought  of  the  condition  of 
the  Brittany  peasants,  when  he  questioned 
abruptly,  and  in  a  voice  that  was  not  quite 
steady : 

"  Billy,  what  should  you  say  if  I  should 
tell  you  that  the  avowed  woman-hater  had 
strayed  so  far  from  the  prescribed  path  as 
to  —  to  like  one  woman  well  enough  as  to 
want  to  —  marry  her  ?  ' ' 

The  word  was  like  a  match  to  the  gun- 
powder of  Billy's  fears.  Her  self-control 
was  shattered  instantly  into  bits. 

11  Marry?  No,  no,  you  wouldn't  —  you 
couldn't  really  be  thinking  of  that,"  she 
babbled,  growing  red  and  white  by  turns. 
"  Only  think  how  a  wife  would  —  would 
b-bother  you!  " 

"  Bother  me?    When  I  loved  her?  " 

"But  just  think  —  remember!  She'd 
want  cushions  and  rugs  and  curtains,  and 


266  Miss  Billy 

you  don't  like  them;  and  she'd  always  be 
talking  and  laughing  when  you  wanted  quiet ; 
and  she  —  she  'd  want  to  drag  you  out  to 
plays  and  parties  and  —  and  everywhere. 
Indeed,  Cyril,  I'm  sure  you'd  never  like  a 
wife  —  long!  '  Billy  stopped  only  because 
she  had  no  breath  with  which  to  continue. 

Cyril  laughed  a  little  grimly. 

' '  You  don 't  draw  a  very  attractive  picture, 
Billy.  Still,  I'm  not  afraid.  I  don't  think 
this  particular  —  wife  would  do  any  of  those 
things  —  to  trouble  me." 

"  Oh,  but  you  don't  know,  you  can't  tell," 
argued  the  girl.  "  Besides,  you  have  had  so 
little  experience  with  women  that  you'd  just 
be  sure  to  make  a  mistake  at  first.  You  want 
to  look  around  very  carefully  —  very  care- 
fully, before  you  decide." 

"  I  have  looked  around,  and  very  carefully, 
Billy.  I  know  that  in  all  the  world  there  is 
just  one  woman  for  me." 

Billy  struggled  to  her  feet.  Mingled  pain 
and  terror  looked  from  her  eyes.  She  began 
to  speak  wildly,  incoherently.  She  wondered 
afterward  just  what  she  would  have  said  if 


Cyril  Has  Something  to  Say     267 

Aunt  Hannah  had  not  come  into  the  room  at 
that  moment  and  announced  that  Bertram 
was  at  the  door  to  take  her  for  a  sleigh-ride 
if  she  cared  to  go. 

"  Of  course  she'll  go,"  declared  Cyril, 
promptly,  answering  for  her.  "  It  is  time  I 
was  off  anyhow."  To  Billy,  he  said  in  a  low 
voice:  "  You  haven't  been  very  encoura- 
ging, little  girl  —  in  fact,  you've  been  mighty 
discouraging.  But  some  day  • —  some  other 
day,  I'll  try  to  make  clear  to  you  —  many 
things. ' ' 

Billy  greeted  Bertram  very  cordially.  It 
was  such  a  relief  —  his  cheery,  genial 
companionship!  The  air,  too,  was  bracing, 
and  all  the  world  lay  under  a  snow-white 
blanket  of  sparkling  purity.  Everything 
was  so  beautiful,  so  restful ! 

It  was  not  surprising,  perhaps,  that  the 
very  frankness  of  Billy's  joy  misled  Bertram 
a  little.  His  blood  tingled  at  her  nearness, 
and  his  eyes  grew  deep  and  tender  as  he 
looked  down  at  her  happy  face.  But  of  all 
the  eager  words  that  were  so  near  his  lips, 
not  one  reached  the  girl's  ears  until  the  good' 


268  Miss  Billy 

byes  were  said;  then  wistfully  Bertram 
hazarded : 

"  Billy,  don't  you  think,  sometimes,  that 
I'm  gaining  —  just  a  little  on  that  rival  of 
mine  —  that  music?  " 

Billy's  face  clouded.  She  shook  her  head 
gently. 

"  Bertram,  please  don't  —  when  we've  had 
such  a  beautiful  hour  together,"  she  begged. 
"  It  troubles  me.  If  you  do,  I  can't  go  — 
again." 

' '  But  you  shall  go  again, ' '  cried  Bertram, 
bravely  smiling  straight  into  her  eyes.  ' '  And 
there  sha'n't  ever  anything  in  the  world 
trouble  you,  either  —  that  I  can  help !  ' ' 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

WILLIAM   IS   WORRIED 

BILLY'S  sleigh-ride  had  been  due  to  the 
kindness  of  a  belated  winter  storm  that  had 
surprised  every  one  the  last  of  March.  After 
that,  March,  as  if  ashamed  of  her  untoward 
behavior,  donned  her  sweetest  smiles  and 
' '  went  out  ' '  like  the  proverbial  lamb.  With 
the  coming  of  April,  and  the  stirring  of  life 
in  the  trees,  Billy,  too,  began  to  be  restless; 
and  at  the  earliest  possible  moment  she  made 
her  plans  for  her  long  anticipated  "  digging 
in  the  dirt." 

Just  here,  much  to  her  surprise,  she  met 
with  wonderful  assistance  from  Bertram.  He 
seemed  to  know  just  when  and  where  and 
how  to  dig,  and  he  displayed  suddenly  a  re- 
markable knowledge  of  landscape  gardening. 
(That  this  knowledge  was  as  recent  in  its 
acquirement  as  it  was  sudden  in  its  display, 
Billy  did  not  know.)  Very  learnedly  he 

269 


270  Miss  Billy 

talked  of  perennials  and  annuals ;  and  with- 
out hesitation  he  made  out  a  list  of  flowering 
shrubs  and  plants  that  would  give  her  a 
11  succession  of  bloom  throughout  the 
season."  His  words  and  phrases  smacked 
loudly  of  the  very  newest  florists '  catalogues, 
but  Billy  did  not  notice  that.  She  only  won- 
dered at  the  seemingly  exhaustless  source  of 
his  wisdom. 

"  I  suspect  'twould  have  been  better  if 
we'd  begun  things  last  fall,"  he  told  her 
frowningly  one  day.  "  But  there's  plenty 
we  can  do  now  anyway;  and  we'll  put  in 
some  quick-growing  things,  just  for  this 
season,  until  we  can  get  the  more  permanent 
things  established." 

And  so  they  worked  together,  studying, 
scheming,  ordering  plants  and  seeds,  their 
two  heads  close  together  above  the  gaily 
colored  catalogues.  Later  there  was  the 
work  itself  to  be  done,  and  though  strong 
men  did  the  heavier  part,  there  was  yet 
plenty  left  for  Billy's  eager  fingers  —  and  for 
Bertram's.  And  if  sometimes  in  the  intimacy 
of  seed-sowing  and  plant- setting,  the  touch 


William  Is  Worried  271 

of  the  slenderer  fingers  sent  a  thrill  through 
the  browner  ones,  Bertram  made  no  sign.  He 
was  careful  always  to  be  the  cheerful,  helpful 
assistant  —  and  that  was  all. 

Billy,  it  is  true,  was  a  little  disturbed  at 
being  quite  so  much  with  Bertram.  She 
dreaded  a  repetition  of  some  such  words  as 
had  been  uttered  at  the  end  of  the  sleigh-ride. 
She  told  herself  that  she  had  no  right  to 
grieve  Bertram,  to  make  it  hard  for  him  by 
being  with  him ;  but  at  the  very  next  breath, 
she  could  but  question ;  did  she  grieve  him  ? 
Was  it  hard  for  him  to  have  her  with  him? 
Then  she  would  glance  at  his  eager  face  and 
meet  his  buoyant  smile  —  and  answer  "  no." 
After  that,  for  a  time,  at  least,  her  fears 
would  be  less. 

Systematically  Billy  avoided  Cyril  these 
days.  She  could  not  forget  his  promise  to 
make  many  things  clear  to  her  some  day. 
She  thought  she  knew  what  he  meant  —  that 
he  would  try  to  convince  her  (as  she  had  tried 
to  convince  herself)  that  she  would  make  a 
good  wife  for  him. 

Billy  was  very  sure  that  if  Cyril  could  be 


272  Miss  Billy 

prevented  from  speaking  his  mind  just  now, 
his  mind  would  change  in  time;  hence  her 
determination  to  give  his  mind  that  opportu- 
nity. 

Billy's  avoidance  of  Cyril  was  the  more 
easily  accomplished  because  she  was  for  a 
time  taking  a  complete  rest  from  her  music. 
The  new  songs  had  been  finished  and  sent  to 
the  publishers.  There  was  no  excuse,  there- 
fore, for  Cyril's  coming  to  the  house  on  that 
score ;  and,  indeed,  he  seemed  of  his  own  ac- 
cord to  be  making  onjy  infrequent  visits  now. 
Billy  was  pleased,  particularly  as  Marie  was 
not  there  to  play  third  party.  Marie  had 
taken  up  her  teaching  again,  much  to  Billy's 
distress. 

"  But  I  can't  stay  here  always,  like  this," 
Marie  had  protested. 

"  But  I  should  like  to  keep  you!  "  Billy 
had  responded,  with  no  less  decision. 

Marie  had  been  firm,  however,  and  had 
gone,  leaving  the  little  house  lonely  without 
her. 

Aside  from  her  work  in  the  garden  Billy  as 
resolutely  avoided  Bertram  as  she  did  Cyril. 


William  Is  Worried  2?3 

It  was  natural,  therefore,  that  at  this  crisis 
she  should  turn  to  William  with  a  peculiar 
feeling  of  restfulness.  He,  at  least,  would  be 
safe,  she  told  herself.  So  she  frankly  wel- 
comed his  every  appearance,  sung  to  him, 
played  to  him,  and  took  long  walks  with  him 
to  see  some  wonderful  bracelet  or  necklace 
that  he  had  discovered  in  a  dingy  little  curio- 
shop. 

William  was  delighted.  He  was  very  fond 
of  his  namesake,  and  he  had  secretly  chafed 
a  little  at  the  way  his  younger  brothers  had 
monopolized  her  attention.  He  was  rejoiced 
now  that  she  seemed  to  be  turning  to  him  for 
companionship;  and  very  eagerly  he  ac- 
cepted all  the  time  she  could  give  him. 

William  had,  in  truth,  been  growing  more 
and  more  lonely  ever  since  Billy's  brief  stay 
beneath  his  roof  years  before.  Those  few 
short  weeks  of  her  merry  presence  had 
shown  him  how  very  forlorn  the  house  was 
without  it.  More  and  more  sorrowfully 
during  past  years,  his  thoughts  had  gone 
back  to  the  little  white  flannel  bundle  and  to 
the  dear  hopes  it  had  carried  so  long  ago. 


274  Miss  Billy 

If  the  boy  had  only  lived,  thought  William, 
mournfully,  there  would  not  now  have  been 
that  dreary  silence  in  his  home,  and  that  sore 
ache  in  his  heart. 

Very  soon  after  William  had  first  seen 
Billy,  he  began  to  lay  wonderful  plans,  and 
in  every  plan  was  Billy.  She  was  not  his 
child  by  flesh  and  blood,  he  acknowledged,  but 
she  was  his  by  right  of  love  and  needed  care. 
In  fancy  he  looked  straight  down  the  years 
ahead,  and  everywhere  he  saw  Billy,  a  loving, 
much-loved  daughter,  the  joy  of  his  life,  the 
solace  of  his  declining  years. 

To  no  one  had  William  talked  of  this- 
and  to  no  one  did  he  show  the  bitterness  of 
his  grief  when  he  saw  his  vision  fade  into 
nothingness  through  Billy's  unchanging  re- 
fusal to  live  in  his  home.  Only  he  himself 
knew  the  heartache,  the  loneliness,  the  almost 
unbearable  longing  of  the  past  winter  months 
while  Billy  had  lived  at  Hillside ;  and  only  he 
himself  knew  now  the  almost  overwhelming 
joy  that  was  his  because  of  what  he  thought 
he  saw  in  Billy's  changed  attitude  toward 
himself, 


William  Is  Worried  275 

Great  as  was  William's  joy,  however,  Ms 
caution  was  greater.  He  said  nothing  to 
Billy  of  his  new  hopes,  though  he  did  try  to 
pave  the  way  by  dropping  an  occasional  word 
about  the  loneliness  of  the  Beacon  Street 
house  since  she  went  away.  There  was  some- 
thing else,  too,  that  caused  William  to  be 
silent  —  what  he  thought  he  saw  between 
Billy  and  Bertram.  That  Bertram  was  in 
love  with  Billy,  he  guessed;  but  that  Billy 
was  not  in  love  with  Bertram  he  very  much 
feared.  He  hesitated  almost  to  speak  or 
move  lest  something  he  should  say  or  do 
should,  just  at  the  critical  moment,  turn 
matters  the  wrong  way.  To  William  this 
marriage  of  Bertram  and  Billy  was  an  ideal 
method  of  solving  the  problem,  as  of  course 
Billy  would  come  there  to  the  house  to  live, 
and  he  would  have  his  "  daughter  "  after  all. 
But  as  the  days  passed,  and  he  could  see  no 
progress  on  Bertram's  part,  no  change  in 
Billy,  he  began  to  be  seriously  worried  —  and 
to  show  it. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

CLASS    DAY 

EARLY  in  June  Billy  announced  her  inten- 
tion of  not  going  away  at  all  that  summer. 

"  I  don't  need  it,"  she  declared.  "  I  have 
this  cool,  beautiful  house,  this  air,  this  sun- 
shine, this  adorable  view.  Besides,  I've  got 
a  scheme  I  mean  to  carry  out." 

There  was  some  consternation  among 
Billy's  friends  when  they  found  out  what  this 
"  scheme  "  was:  sundry  of  Billy's  humbler 
acquaintances  were  to  share  the  house,  the 
air,  the  sunshine,  and  the  adorable  view  with 
her. 

"  But,  my  dear  Billy,"  Bertram  cried, 
aghast,  "  you  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  are 
going  to  turn  your  beautiful  little  house  into 
a  fresh-air  place  for  Boston's  slum 
children!  " 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  smiled  the  girl,  "  though 

276 


Class  Day  277 

I'd  like  to,  really,  if  I  could,"  she  added, 
perversely.  "  But  this  is  quite  another 
thing.  It's  no  slum  work,  no  charity.  In  the 
first  place  iny  guests  aren't  quite  so  poor  as 
that,  and  they're  much  too  proud  to  be 
reached  by  the  avowed  charity  worker.  But 
they  need  it  just  the  same." 

"  But  you  haven't  much  spare  room;  have 
you?  "  questioned  Bertram. 

"  No,  unfortunately;  so  I  shall  have  to 
take  only  two  or  three  at  a  time,  and  keep 
them  maybe  a  week  or  ten  days.  It's  just  a 
sugar  plum,  Bertram.  Truly  it  is,"  she 
added  whimsically,  but  with  a  tender  light  in 
her  eyes. 

"  But  who  are  these  people?  "  Bertram's 
face  had  lost  its  look  of  shocked  surprise,  and 
his  voice  expressed  genuine  interest. 

"  Well,  to  begin  with,  there's  Marie. 
She'll  stay  all  summer  and  help  me  entertain 
my  guests ;  at  the  same  time  her  duties  won't 
be  arduous,  and  she'll  get  a  little  playtime 
herself.  One  week  I'm  going  to  have  a  little 
old  maid  who  keeps  a  lodging  house  in  the 
West  End,  For  uncounted  years  she's  been 


278  Miss  Billy 

practically  tied  to  a  doorbell,  with  never  a 
whole  day  to  breathe  free.  I've  made  ar- 
rangements there  for  a  sister  to  keep  house 
a  whole  week,  and  I'm  going  to  show  this 
little  old  maid  things  she  hasn't  seen  for 
years :  the  ocean,  the  green  fields,  and  a  sum- 
mer play  or  two,  perhaps. 

*  *  Then  there 's  a  little  couple  that  live  in  a 
third-story  flat  in  South  Boston.  They're 
young  and  like  good  times ;  but  the  man  is  on 
a  small  salary,  and  they  have  had  lots  of  sick- 
ness. He's  been  out  so  much  he  can't  take 
any  vacation,  and  they  wouldn't  have  any 
money  to  go  anywhere  if  he  could.  Well,  I  'm 
going  to  have  them  a  week.  She'll  be  here 
all  the  time,  and  he'll  come  out  at  night,  of 
course. 

' '  Another  one  is  a  widow  with  six  children. 
The  children  are  already  provided  for  by  a 
fresh-air  society,  but  the  woman  I'm  going 
to  take,  and  —  and  give  her  a  whole  week  of 
food  that  she  didn't  have  tp  cook  herself. 
Another  one  is  a  woman  who  is  not  so  very 
poor,  but  who  has  lost  her  baby,  and  is  blue 
and  discouraged.  There  are  some  children, 


Class  Day  279 

too,  one  crippled,  and  a  boy  who  says  he's 
'just  lonesome.'  And  there  are  —  really, 
Bertram,  there  is  no  end  to  them." 

"  I  can  well  believe  that,"  declared  Ber- 
tram, with  emphasis,  "  so  far  as  your  gener- 
ous heart  is  concerned." 

Billy  colored  and  looked  distressed. 

11  But  it  isn't  generosity  or  charity  at  all, 
Bertram,"  she  protested.  "  You  are  mis- 
taken when  you  think  it  is  —  really !  Why,  I 
shall  enjoy  every  bit  of  it  just  as  well  as  they 
do  —  and  better,  perhaps." 

' '  But  you  stay  here  —  in  the  city  —  all 
summer  for  their  sakes." 

"  What  if  I  do?  Besides,  this  isn't  the 
real  city, ' '  argued  Billy, ' '  with  all  these  trees 
and  lawns  about  one.  And  another  thing," 
she  added,  leaning  forward  confidentially, ' '  I 
might  as  well  confess,  Bertram,  you  couldn't 
hire  me  to  leave  the  place  this  summer  —  not 
while  all  these  things  I  planted  are  coming 
up!  " 

Bertram  laughed ;  but  for  some  reason  he 
looked  wonderfully  happy  as  he  turned  away. 

On  the  fifteenth  of  June  Kate  and  her  hws- 


280  Miss  Billy 

band  arrived  from  the  West.  A  young 
brother  of  Mr.  HartwelPs  was  to  be  grad- 
uated from  Harvard,  and  Kate  said  they  had 
come  on  to  represent  the  family,  as  the 
elder  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hartwell  were  not  strong 
enough  to  undertake  the  journey.  Kate  was 
looking  well  and  happy.  She  greeted  Billy 
with  effusive  cordiality,  and  openly  expressed 
her  admiration  of  Hillside.  She  looked  very 
keenly  into  her  brothers'  face,  and  seemed 
well  pleased  with  the  appearance  of  Cyril  and 
Bertram,  but  not  so  much  so  with  William's 
countenance. 

"  William  does  not  look  well,"  she  declared 
one  day  when  she  and  Billy  were  alone 
together. 

"  Sick?  Uncle  William  sick?  Oh,  I  hope 
not!  "  cried  the  girl. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  it's  '  sick  '  or 
not,"  returned  Mrs.  Hartwell.  "  But  it's 
something.  He's  troubled.  I'm  going  to 
speak  to  him.  He's  worried  over  some- 
thing; and  he's  grown  terribly  thin." 

"  But  he's  always  thin,"  reasoned  Billy. 

4 '  I  know,  but  not  like  this  —  ever.     You 


Class  Day  281 

don't  notice  it,  perhaps,  or  realize  it,  seeing 
him  every  day  as  you  do.  But  I  know  some- 
thing troubles  him." 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not,"  murmured  Billy,  with 
anxious  eyes.  "  We  don't  want  Uncle  Will- 
iam troubled:  we  all  love  him  too  well." 

Mrs.  Hartwell  did  not  at  once  reply;  but 
for  a  long  minute  she  thoughtfully  studied 
Billy's  face  as  it  was  bent  above  the  sewing 
in  Billy's  hand.  When  she  did  speak  she  had 
changed  the  subject. 

Young  Hartwell  was  to  deliver  the  Ivy 
Oration  in  the  Stadium  on  Class  Day,  and  all 
the  Henshaws  were  looking  eagerly  forward 
to  the  occasion. 

"  You  have  seen  the  Stadium,  of  course," 
said  Bertram  to  Billy,  a  few  days  before  the 
anticipated  Friday. 

11  Only  from  across  the  river." 

"  Is  that  so?  And  you've  never  been  here 
Class  Day,  either.  Good !  Then  you've  got  a 
treat  in  store.  Just  wait  and  see !  ' 

And  Billy  waited  —  and  she  saw.  Billy 
began  to  see,  in  fact,  before  Class  Day. 
Young  Hartwell  was  a  popular  fellow,  and  he 


282  Miss  Billy 

was  eager  to  have  his  friends  meet  Billy  and 
the  Henshaws.  He  was  a  member  of  the 
Institute  of  1770,  D.  K.  E.,  Stylus,  Signet, 
Sound  Table,  and  Hasty  Pudding  Clubs,  and 
nearly  every  one  of  these  had  some  sort  of 
function  planned  for  Class-Day  week.  By 
the  time  the  day  itself  arrived  Billy  was 
almost  as  excited  as  was  young  Hartwell  him- 
self. 

It  rained  Class-Day  morning,  but  at  nine 
o  'clock  the  sun  came  out  and  drove  the  clouds 
away,  much  to  every  one's  delight.  Billy's 
day  began  at  noon  with  the  spread  given  by 
the  Hasty  Pudding  Club.  Billy  wondered 
afterward  how  many  times  that  day  remarks 
like  these  were  made  to  her : 

11  You've  been  here  Class  Day  before,  of 
course.  You've  seen  the  confetti- throw- 
ing! .  .  .  No?  Well,  you  just  wait!  ' 

At  ten  minutes  of  four  Billy  and  Mrs.  Hart- 
well,  with  Mr.  Hartwell  and  Bertram  as 
escorts,  entered  the  cool,  echoing  shadows 
under  the  Stadium,  and  then  out  in  the  sun- 
light they  began  to  climb  the  broad  steps  to 
their  seats. 


Class  Day  283 

"  I  wanted  them  high  up,  you  see,"  ex- 
plained Bertram,  "  because  you  can  get  the 
effect  so  much  better.  There,  here  we 
are!  ' 

For  the  first  time  Billy  turned  and  looked 
about  her.  She  gave  a  low  cry  of  delight. 

'  *  Oh,  oh,  how  beautiful  —  how  wonderfully 
beautiful!  " 

1 '  You  just  wait !  ' '  crowed  Bertram.  * '  If 
you  think  this  is  beautiful,  you  just  wait !  ' ' 

Billy  did  not  seem  to  hear  him.  Her  eyes 
were  sweeping  the  wonderful  scene  before 
her,  and  her  face  was  aglow  with  delight. 

First  there  was  the  great  amphitheater 
itself.  Only  the  wide  curve  of  the  horseshoe 
was  roped  off  for  to-day's  audience.  Beyond 
lay  the  two  sides  with  their  tier  above  tier  of 
empty  seats,  almost  dazzling  in  the  sunshine. 
Within  the  roped-off  curve  the  scene  was  of 
kaleidoscopic  beauty.  Charmingly  gowned 
young  women  and  carefully  groomed  young 
men  were  everywhere,  stirring,  chatting, 
laughing.  G-ay-colored  parasols  and  flower- 
garden  hats  made  here  and  there  brilliant 
splashes  of  rainbow  tints.  Above  was  an 


284  Miss  Billy 

almost  cloudless  canopy  of  blue,  and  at  the 
far  horizon,  earth  and  sky  met  and  made  a 
picture  that  was  like  a  wondrous  painted  cur- 
tain hung  from  heaven  itself. 

At  the  first  sound  of  the  distant  band  that 
told  of  the  graduates'  coming,  Bertram  said 
almost  wistfully: 

"  Class  Day  is  the  only  time  when  I  feel 
'  out  of  it.'  You  see  I'm  the  first  male  Hen- 
shaw  for  ages  that  hasn't  been  through  Har- 
vard; and  to-day,  you  know,  is  the  time 
when  the  old  grads  come  back  and  do  stunts 
like  the  kids  —  if  they  can  (and  some  of  them 
can  all  right!).  They  march  in  by  classes 
ahead  of  the  seniors,  and  vie  with  each  other 
in  giving  their  yells.  You'll  see  Cyril  and 
William,  if  your  eyes  are  sharp  enough  — 
and  you'll  see  them  as  you  never  saw  them 
before. ' ' 

Far  down  the  green  field  Billy  spied  now 
the  long  black  line  of  moving  figures  with  a 
band  in  the  lead.  Nearer  and  nearer  it  came 
until,  greeted  by  a  mighty  roar  from  thou- 
sands of  throats,  the  leaders  swept  into  the 
great  bowl  of  the  horseshoe  curve. 


Class  Day  285 

And  how  they  yelled  and  cheered  —  those 
men  whose  first  Class  Day  lay  five,  ten, 
fifteen,  even  twenty  or  more  years  behind 
them,  as  told  by  the  banners  which  they  so 
proudly  carried.  How  they  got  their  heads 
together  and  gave  the  "  Rah!  Eah!  Rah!  '* 
with  unswerving  eyes  on  their  leader !  How 
they  beat  the  air  with  their  hats  in  time  to 
their  lusty  shouts!  And  how  the  throngs 
above  cheered  and  clapped  in  answer,  until 
they  almost  split  their  throats  —  and  did 
split  their  gloves  —  especially  when  the 
black-gowned  seniors  swept  into  view. 

And  when  the  curving  line  of  black  had 
become  one  solid  mass  of  humanity  that  filled 
the  bowl  from  side  to  sioTe,  the  vast  throng 
seated  themselves,  and  a  great  hush  fell 
while  the  Glee  Club  sang. 

Young  Hartwell  proved  to  be  a  good 
speaker,  and  his  ringing  voice  reached  even 
the  topmost  tier  of  seats.  Billy  was  charmed 
and  interested.  Everything  she  saw  and 
heard  was  but  a  new  source  of  enjoyment,  and 
she  had  quite  forgotten  the  thing  for  which 
she  was  to  "  wait,"  when  she  saw  the  ushers 


286  Miss  Billy 

passing  through  the  aisles  with  their  baskets 
of  many-hued  packages  of  confetti  and  count- 
less rolls  of  paper  ribbon. 

It  began  then,  the  merry  war  between  the 
students  below  and  the  throng  above.  In  a 
trice  the  air  was  filled  with  shimmering  bits 
of  red,  blue,  white,  green,  purple,  pink,  and 
yellow.  From  all  directions  fluttering 
streamers  that  showed  every  color  of  the 
rainbow,  were  flung  to  the  breeze  until,  up- 
held by  the  supporting  wires,  they  made  a 
fairy  lace  work  of  marvelous  beauty. 

' '  Oh,  oh,  oh !  "  cried  Billy,  her  eyes  misty 
with  emotion.  "  I  think  I  never  saw  any- 
thing in  my  life  so  lovely!  " 

"  I  thought  you'd  like  it,"  gloried  Ber- 
tram. '  *  You  know  I  said  to  wait !  ' ' 

But  even  with  this,  Class  Day  for  Billy  was 
not  finished.  There  was  still  Hartwell's  own 
spread  from  six  to  eight,  and  after  that 
there  were  the  President's  reception,  and 
dancing  in  the  Memorial  Hall  and  in  the 
Gymnasium.  There  was  the  Fairyland  of  the 
yard,  too,  softly  aglow  with  moving  throngs 
of  beautiful  women  and  gallant  men.  But 


Class  Day  287 

what  Billy  remembered  best  of  all  was  the 
exquisite  harmony  that  came  to  her  through 
the  hushed  night  air  when  the  Glee  Club  sang 
Fair  Harvard  on  the  steps  of  Holworthy 
Hall 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

SISTER   KATE   AGAIN 

IT  was  on  the  Sunday  following  Class  Day 
that  Mrs.  Hartwell  carried  out  her  determina- 
tion to  "  speak  to  William."  The  West  had 
not  taken  from  Kate  her  love  of  managing, 
and  she  thought  she  saw  now  a  matter  that 
sorely  needed  her  guiding  hand. 

William's  thin  face,  anxious  looks,  and  ner- 
vous manner  had  troubled  her  ever  since  she 
came.  Then  one  day,  very  suddenly,  had 
come  enlightenment :  William  was  in  love  — 
and  with  Billy. 

Mrs.  Hartwell  watched  William  very 
closely  after  that.  She  saw  his  eyes  follow 
Billy  fondly,  yet  anxiously.  She  saw  his 
open  joy  at  being  with  her,  and  at  any  little 
attention,  word,  or  look  that  the  girl  gave 
him.  She  remembered,  too,  something  that 


Sister  Kate  Again  289 

Bertram  had  said  about  William's  grief  be- 
cause Billy  would  not  live  at  the  Strata.  She 
thought  she  saw  something  else,  also:  that 
Billy  was  fond  of  William,  but  that  William 
did  not  know  it;  hence  his  frequent  troub- 
led scrutiny  of  her  face.  Why  these  two 
should  play  at  cross  purposes  Sister  Kate 
could  not  understand.  She  smiled,  how- 
ever, confidently:  they  should  not  play 
at  cross  purposes  much  longer,  she  de- 
clared. 

On  Sunday  afternoon  Kate  asked  her  eldest 
brother  to  take  her  driving. 

' '  Not  a  motor  car ;  I  want  a  horse  —  that 
will  let  me  talk,"  she  said. 

1 1  Certainly, ' '  agreed  William,  with  a  smile ; 
but  Bertram,  who  chanced  to  hear  her,  put  in 
the  sly  comment :  ' '  As  if  any  horse  could 
prevent  — •  that !  ' 

On  the  drive  Kate  began  to  talk  at  once, 
but  she  did  not  plunge  into  the  subject  near- 
est her  heart  until  she  had  adroitly  led 
William  into  a  glowing  enumeration  of 
Billy's  many  charming  characteristics;  then 
she  said : 


290  Miss  Billy 

"  William,  why  don't  you  take  Billy  home 
with  you  T  ' 

William  stirred  uneasily  as  he  always  did 
when  anything  annoyed  him. 

"  My  dear  Kate,  there  is  nothing  I  should 
like  better  to  do,"  he  replied. 

"  Then  why  don't  you  do  it?  " 

"  I  —  hope  to,  sometime." 

"  But  why  not  now?  " 

' '  I  'm  afraid  Billy  is  not  quite  —  ready.  ' ' 

' '  Nonsense !  A  young  girl  like  that  does 
not  know  her  own  mind  lots  of  times.  Just 
press  the  matter  a  little.  Love  will  work 
wonders  — •  sometimes." 

William  blushed  like  a  girl.  To  him  her 
words  had  but  one  meaning  —  Bertram's 
love  for  Billy.  William  had  never  spoken  of 
this  suspected  love  affair  to  any  one.  He 
had  even  thought  that  he  was  the  only  one 
that  had  discovered  it.  To  hear  his  sister 
refer  thus  lightly  to  it  came  therefore  in  the 
nature  of  a  shock  to  him. 

"  Then  you  have  —  seen  it  —  too?"  he 
stammered. 

"  *  Seen  it,  too/  "  laughed  Kate,  with  her 


Sister  Kate  Again  291 

confident  eyes  on  William's  flushed  face,  "  I 
should  say  I  had  seen  it !  Any  one  could  see 
it." 

William  blushed  again.  Love  to  him  had 
always  been  something  sacred;  something 
that  called  for  hushed  voices  and  twilight. 
This  merry  discussion  in  the  sunlight  of  even 
another's  love  was  disconcerting. 

11  Now  come,  William,"  resumed  Kate, 
after  a  moment;  "  speak  to  Billy,  and  have 
the  matter  settled  once  for  all.  It's  worrying 
you.  I  can  see  it  is." 

Again  William  stirred  uneasily. 

"  But,  Kate,  I  can't  do  anything.  I  told 
you  before;  I  don't  believe  Billy  is  — 
ready." 

"  Nonsense!    Ask  her." 

"  But  Kate,  a  girl  won't  marry  against 
her  will!  " 

"  I  don't  believe  it  is  against  her  will." 

"Kate!    Honestly?" 

"  Honestly!    I've  watched  her." 

"  Then  I  will  speak,"  cried  the  man,  his 
face  alight,  "  if  —  if  you  think  anything  I 
can  say  would  —  help.  There  is  nothing  — 


292  Miss  Billy 

nothing  in  all  this  world  that  I  so  desire, 
Kate,  as  to  have  that  little  girl  back  home. 
And  of  course  that  would  do  it.  She'd  live 
there,  you  know." 

"Why,  of  —  course,"  murmured  Kate, 
with  a  puzzled  frown.  There  was  something 
in  this  last  remark  of  William's  that  she  did 
not  quite  understand.  Surely  he  could  not 
suppose  that  she  had  any  idea  that  after  he 
had  married  Billy  they  would  go  to  live  any- 
where else ;  —  she  thought.  For  a  moment 
she  considered  the  matter  vaguely;  then  she 
turned  her  attention  to  something  else.  She 
was  the  more  ready  to  do  this  because  she 
believed  that  she  had  said  enough  for  the 
present :  it  was  well  to  sow  seeds,  but  it  was 
also  well  to  let  them  have  a  chance  to  grow, 
she  told  herself. 

Mrs.  Hartwell's  next  move  was  to  speak  to 
Billy,  and  she  was  careful  to  do  this  at  once, 
so  that  she  might  pave  the  way  for  William. 

She  began  her  conversation  with  an  ingra- 
tiating smile  and  the  words : 

11  Well,  Billy,  I've  been  doing  a  little  de- 
tective work  on  my  own  account." 


Sister  Kate  Again  £93 

"  Detective  work?  " 

11  Yes;  about  William.  You  know  I  told 
you  the  other  day  how  troubled  and  anxious 
he  looked  to  me.  Well,  I've  found  out  what's 
the  matter." 

"  What  is  it?  " 

"Yourself." 

"  Myself!  Why,  Mrs.  Hartwell,  what  can 
you  mean!  " 

The  elder  lady  smiled  significantly. 

"  Oh,  it's  merely  another  case,  my  dear, 
of  '  faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady.'  I've 
been  helping  on  the  faint  heart ;  that 's  all. ' ' 

"  But  I  don't  understand." 

"  No?  I  can't  believe  you  quite  mean 
that,  my  dear.  Surely  you  must  know  how 
earnestly  my  brother  William  is  longing  for 
you  to  go  back  and  live  with  him." 

Like  William,  Billy  flushed  scarlet. 

"  Mrs.  Hartwell,  certainly  no  one  could 
know  better  than  yourself  why  that  is  quite 
impossible,"  she  frowned. 

The  other  colored  confusedly. 

"  I  understand,  of  course,  what  you  mean. 
And,  Billy,  I'll  confess  that  I've  been  sorry 


294  Miss  Billy 

lots  of  times,  since,  that  I  spoke  as  I  did  to 
you,  particularly  when  I  saw  how  it  grieved 
my  brother  William  to  have  you  go  away. 
If  I  blundered  then,  I'm  sorry;  and  perhaps 
I  did  blunder.  At  all  events,  that  is  only  the 
more  reason  now  why  I  am  so  anxious  to  do 
what  I  can  to  rectify  that  old  mistake,  and 
plead  William's  suit." 

To  Mrs.  Hartwell's  blank  amazement, 
Billy  laughed  outright. 

"  '  William's  suit  '!  "  she  quoted  merrily. 
"  Why,  Mrs.  Hartwell,  there  isn't  any 
*  suit  '  to  it.  Uncle  William  doesn't  want  me 
to  marry  him !  ' ' 

"  Indeed  he  does." 

Billy  stopped  laughing,  and  sat  suddenly 
«rect. 

"  Mrs.  Hartwell!  " 

' '  Billy,  is  it  possible  that  you  did  not  know 
this?  " 

"  Indeed  I  don't  know  it,  and  —  excuse 
me,  but  I  don't  think  you  do,  either." 

"  But  I  do.  I've  talked  with  him,  and  he's 
very  much  in  earnest,"  urged  Mrs.  Hartwell, 
speaking  very  rapidly.  "  He  says  there's 


Sister  Kate  Again  295 

nothing  in  all  the  world  that  he  so  desires. 
And,  Billy,  you  do  care  for  him  —  I  know 
you  do! ' 

< '  Why,  of  course  I  care  for  him  —  but  not 
—  that  way. ' ' 

"  But,  Billy,  think!  "  Mrs.  Hartwell  was 
very  earnest  now,  and  a  little  frightened. 
She  felt  that  she  must  bring  Billy  to  terms 
in  some  way  now  that  "William  had  been  en- 
couraged to  put  his  fate  to  the  test.  "  Just 
remember  how  good  William  has  always 
been  to  you,  and  think  what  you  have  been, 
and  may  be  —  if  you  only  will  —  in  his  lonely 
life.  Think  of  his  great  sorrow  years  ago. 
Think  of  this  dreary  waste  of  years  between. 
Think  how  now  his  heart  has  turned  to  you 
for  love  and  comfort  and  rest.  Billy,  you 
can't  turn  away!  — you  can't  find  it  in  your 
heart  to  turn  away  from  that  dear,  good  man 
who  loves  you  so!  "  Mrs.  Hartwell 's  voice 
shook  effectively,  and  even  her  eyes  looked 
through  tears.  Mentally  she  was  congratu- 
lating herself:  she  had  not  supposed  she 
could  make  so  touching  an  appeal. 

In  the  chair  opposite  the  girl  sat  very  still. 


296  Miss  Billy 

She  was  pale,  and  her  eyes  showed  a  fright- 
ened questioning  in  their  depths.  For  a  long 
minute  she  said  nothing,  then  she  rose 
dazedly  to  her  feet. 

"  Mrs.  Hartwell,  please  do  not  speak  of 
this  to  any  one,"  she  begged  in  a  low  voice. 
"I  —  I  am  taken  quite  by  surprise.  I  shall 
have  to  think  it  out  —  alone. ' ' 

Billy  did  not  sleep  well  that  night.  Always 
before  her  eyes  was  the  vision  of  William's 
face;  and  always  in  her  ears  was  the  echo 
of  Mrs.  Hartwell 's  words:  "  Eemember  how 
good  William  has  always  been  to  you.  Think 
of  his  great  sorrow  years  ago.  Think  of  this 
dreary  waste  of  years  between.  Think  how 
now  his  heart  has  turned  to  you  for  love  and 
comfort  and  rest." 

For  a  time  Billy  tossed  about  on  her  bed 
trying  to  close  her  eyes  to  the  vision  and  her 
ears  to  the  echo.  Then,  finding  that  neither 
was  possible,  she  set  herself  earnestly  to 
thinking  the  matter  out. 

William  loved  her.  Extraordinary  as  it 
seemed,  such  was  the  fact;  Mrs.  Hartwell 
said  so.  And  now  —  what  must  she  do; 


Sister  Kate  Again  297 

what  could  she  do  ?  She  loved  no  one  —  of 
that  she  was  very  sure.  She  was  even  be- 
ginning to  think  that  she  would  never  love 
any  one.  There  were  Calderwell,  Cyril,  Ber- 
tram, to  say  nothing  of  sundry  others,  who 
had  loved  her,  apparently,  but  whom  she 
could  not  love.  Such  being  the  case,  if  she 
were,  indeed,  incapable  of  love  herself,  why 
should  she  not  make  the  sacrifice  of  giving 
up  her  career,  her  independence,  and  in  that 
way  bring  this  great  joy  to  Uncle  William's 
heart?  .  .  .  Even  as  she  said  the  "  Un- 
cle William  "  to  herself,  Billy  bit  her  lip 
and  realized  that  she  must  no  longer 
say  "  Uncle  "  William  —  if  she  married 
him. 

"  If  she  married  him."  The  words  star- 
tled her.  "  If  she  married  him."  .  .  .  Well, 
what  of  it?  She  would  go  to  live  at  the 
Strata,  of  course;  and  there  would  be  Cyril 
and  Bertram.  It  might  be  awkward,  and 
yet  —  she  did  not  believe  Cyril  was  in  love 
with  anything  but  his  music ;  and  as  to  Ber- 
tram—  it  was  the  same  with  Bertram  and 
his  painting,  and  he  would  soon  forget  that 


298  Miss  Billy 

he  had  ever  fancied  he  loved  her.  After  that 
he  would  be  simply  a  congenial  friend  and 
companion  —  a  good  comrade.  As  Billy 
thought  of  it,  indeed,  one  of  the  pleasantest 
features  of  this  marriage  with  William 
would  be  the  delightful  comradeship  of  her 
"  brother,"  Bertram. 

Billy  dwelt  then  at  some  length  on  Will- 
iam's love  for  her,  his  longing  for  her  pres- 
ence, and  his  dreary  years  of  loneliness.  .  .  . 
And  he  was  so  good  to  her,  she  recollected; 
he  had  always  been  good  to  her.  He  was 
older,  to  be  sure  —  much  older  than  she ;  but, 
after  all,  it  would  not  be  so  difficult,  so  very 
difficult,  to  learn  to  love  him.  At  all  events, 
whatever  happened,  she  would  have  the  su- 
preme satisfaction  of  knowing  that  at  least 
she  had  brought  into  dear  Uncle  —  that  is, 
into  William's  life  the  great  peace  and  joy 
that  only  she  could  give. 

It  was  almost  dawn  when  Billy  arrived  at 
this  not  uncheerful  state  of  prospective  mar- 
tyrdom. She  turned  over  then  with  a  sigh, 
and  settled  herself  to  sleep.  She  was  re- 
lieved that  she  had  decided  the  question.  She 


Sister  Kate  Again  299 

was  glad  that  she  knew  just  what  to  say  when 
William  should  speak.  He  was  a  dear,  dear 
man,  and  she  would  not  make  it  hard  for  him, 
she  promised  herself.  She  would  be  Will- 
iam's wife. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 

WILLIAM   MEETS   WITH    A   SURPRISE 

•  IN  spite  of  his  sister's  confident  assurance 
that  the  time  was  ripe  for  him  to  speak  to 
Billy,  William  delayed  some  days  before 
broaching  the  matter  to  her.  His  courage 
was  not  so  good  as  it  had  been  when  he  was 
talking  with  Kate.  It  seemed  now,  as  it  al- 
ways had,  a  fearsome  thing  to  try  to  hasten 
on  this  love  affair  between  Billy  and  Ber- 
tram. He  could  not  see,  in  spite  of  Kate's 
words,  that  Billy  showed  unmistakable  evi- 
dence at  all  of  being  in  love  with  his  brother. 
The  more  he  thought  of  it,  in  fact,  the  more 
he  dreaded  the  carrying  out  of  his  promise 
to  speak  to  his  namesake. 

What  should  he  say,  he  asked  himself. 
How  could  he  word  it?  He  could  not  very 
well  accost  her  with:  "Oh,  Billy,  I  wish 

800 


William  Meets  with  a  Surprise    301 

you'd  please  hurry  up  and  marry  Bertram, 
because  then  you'd  come  and  live  with  me." 
Neither  could  he  plead  Bertram's  cause  di- 
rectly. Quite  probably  Bertram  would  pre- 
fer to  plead  his  own.  Then,  too,  if  Billy 
really  was  not  in  love  with  Bertram  —  what 
then?  Might  not  his  own  untimely  haste  in 
the  matter  forever  put  an  end  to  the  chance 
of  her  caring  for  him? 

It  was,  indeed,  a  delicate  matter,  and  as 
William  pondered  it  he  wished  himself  well 
out  of  it,  and  that  Kate  had  not  spoken.  But 
even  as  he  formed  the  wish,  William  remem- 
bered with  a  thrill  Kate's  positive  assertion 
that  a  word  from  him  would  do  wonders,  and 
that  now  was  the  time  to  utter  it.  He  de- 
cided then  that  he  would  speak ;  that  he  must 
speak;  but  that  at  the  same  time  he  would 
proceed  with  a  caution  that  would  permit  a 
hasty  retreat  if  he  saw  that  his  words  were 
not  having  the  desired  effect.  He  would  be- 
gin with  a  frank  confession  of  his  grief  at  her 
leaving  him,  and  of  his  longing  for  her  re- 
turn; then  very  gradually,  if  wisdom  coun- 
seled it,  he  would  go  on  to  speak  of  Bertram's 


302  Miss  Billy 

love  for  her,  and  of  his  own  hope  that  she 
would  make  Bertram  and  all  the  Strata  glad 
by  loving  him  in  return. 

Mrs.  Hartwell  had  returned  to  her  West- 
ern home  before  William  found  just  the  op- 
portunity for  his  talk  with  Billy.  True  to 
his  belief  that  only  hushed  voices  and  twi- 
light were  fitting  for  such  a  subject,  he 
waited  until  he  found  the  girl  early  one  eve- 
ning alone  on  her  vine-shaded  veranda.  He 
noticed  that  as  he  seated  himself  at  her  side 
she  flushed  a  little  and  half  started  to  rise, 
with  a  nervous  fluttering  of  her  hands,  and 
a  murmured  "  I'll  call  Aunt  Hannah."  It 
was  then  that  with  sudden  courage,  he  re- 
solved to  speak. 

"  Billy,  don't  go,"  he  said  gently,  with  a 
touch  of  his  hand  on  her  arm.  "  There  is 
something  I  want  to  say  to  you.  I  —  I  have 
wanted  to  say  it  for  some  time." 

11  Why,  of  —  of  course,"  stammered  the 
girl,  falling  back  in  her  seat.  And  again 
William  noticed  that  odd  fluttering  of  the 
slim  little  hands. 

For  a  time  no  one  spoke,  then  William  be- 


William  Meets  with  a  Surprise    303 

gan  softly,  his  eyes  on  the  distant  sky-line 
still  faintly  aglow  with  the  sunset's  reflection. 

"  Billy,  I  want  to  tell  you  a  story.  Long 
years  ago  there  was  a  man  who  had  a  happy 
home  with  a  young  wife  and  a  tiny  baby  boy 
in  it.  I  could  not  begin  to  tell  you  all  the 
plans  that  man  made  for  that  baby  boy.  Such 
a  great  and  good  and  wonderful  being  that 
tiny  baby  was  one  day  to  become.  But  the 
baby  —  went  away,  after  a  time,  and  carried 
with  him  all  the  plans  —  and  he  never  came 
back.  Behind  him  he  left  empty  hearts  that 
ached,  and  great  bare  rooms  that  seemed  al- 
ways to  be  echoing  sighs  and  sobs.  And 
then,  one  day,  such  a  few  years  after,  the 
young  wife  went  to  find  her  baby,  and  left  the 
man  all  alone  with  the  heart  that  ached  and 
the  great  bare  rooms  that  echoed  sighs  and 
sobs. 

"  Perhaps  it  was  this  —  the  bareness  of 
the  rooms  -  -  that  made  the  man  turn  to  his 
boyish  passion  for  collecting  things.  He 
wanted  to  fill  those  rooms  full,  full !  —  so  that 
the  sighs  and  sobs  could  not  be  heard;  and 
he  wanted  to  fill  his  heart,  too,  with  some- 


304  Miss  Billy 

thing  that  would  still  the  ache.  And  he  tried. 
Already  he  had  his  boyish  treasures,  and 
these  he  lined  up  in  brave  array,  but  his 
rooms  still  echoed,  and  his  heart  still  ached ; 
so  he  built  more  shelves  and  bought  more 
cabinets,  and  set  himself  to  filling  them,  ho- 
ping at  the  same  time  that  he  might  fill  all 
that  dreary  waste  of  hours  outside  of 
business  —  hours  which  once  had  been  all  too 
short  to  devote  to  the  young  wife  and  the 
baby  boy. 

"  One  by  one  the  years  passed,  and  one  by 
one  the  shelves  and  the  cabinets  were  filled. 
The  man  fancied,  sometimes,  that  he  had  suc- 
ceeded; but  in  his  heart  of  hearts  he  knew 
that  the  ache  was  merely  dulled,  and  that 
darkness  had  only  to  come  to  set  the  rooms 
once  more  to  echoing  the  sighs  and  sobs.  And 
then  —  but  perhaps  you  are  tired  of  the 
story,  Billy."  William  turned  with  question- 
ing eyes. 

"  No,  oh,  no,"  faltered  Billy.  "  It  is  beau- 
tiful, but  so  —  sad !  ' : 

"  But  the  saddest  part  is  done  —  I  hope," 
said  William,  softly.  "  Let  me  tell  you.  A 


William  Meets  with  a  Surprise    305 

wonderful  thing  happened  then.  Suddenly, 
right  out  of  a  dull  gray  sky  of  hopelessness, 
dropped  a  little  brown-eyed  girl  and  a  little 
gray  cat.  All  over  the  house  they  frolicked, 
filling  every  nook  and  cranny  with  laughter 
and  light  and  happiness.  And  then,  like 
magic,  the  man  lost  the  ache  in  his  heart,  and 
the  rooms  lost  their  echoing  sighs  and  sobs. 
The  man  knew,  then,  that  never  again  could 
he  hope  to  fill  his  heart  and  life  with  sense- 
less things  of  clay  and  metal.  He  knew  that 
the  one  thing  he  wanted  always  near  him  was 
the  little  brown-eyed  girl ;  and  he  hoped  that 
he  could  keep  her.  But  just  as  he  was  begin- 
ning to  bask  in  this  new  light  —  it  went  out. 
As  suddenly  as  they  had  come,  the  little 
brown-eyed  girl  and  the  gray  cat  went  away. 
Why,  the  man  did  not  know.  He  knew  only 
that  the  ache  had  come  back,  doubly  intense, 
and  that  the  rooms  were  more  gloomy  than 
ever.  And  now,  Billy,"  —  William's  voice 
shook  a  little  —  "  it  is  for  you  to  finish  the 
story.  It  is  for  you  to  say  whether  that 
man's  heart  shall  ache  on  and  on  down  to  a 
lonely  old  age,  and  whether  those  rooms  shall 


306  Miss  Billy 

always  echo  the  sighs  and  sobs  of  the 
past." 

"  And  I  will  finish  it,"  choked  Billy,  hold- 
ing out  both  her  hands.  "  It  sha'n't  ache  — 
they  sha'n't  echo!  " 

The  man  leaned  forward  eagerly,  unbeliev- 
ingly, and  caught  the  hands  in  his  own. 

' '  Billy,  do  you  mean  it  1  Then  you  will  — 
come?  " 

"Yes,  yes!  I  didn't  know  —  I  didn't 
think.  I  never  supposed  it  was  like  that !  Of 
course  I'll  come!  "  And  in  a  moment  she 
was  sobbing  in  his  arms. 

"  Billy!  "  breathed  .William  rapturously, 
as  he  touched  his  lips  to  her  forehead.  l '  My 
own  little  Billy!  " 

It  was  a  few  minutes  later,  when  Billy  was 
more  calm,  that  William  started  to  speak  of 
Bertram.  For  a  moment  he  had  been  tempted 
not  to  mention  his  brother,  now  that  his  own 
point  had  been  won  so  surprisingly  quick; 
but  the  new  softness  in  Billy's  face  had  en- 
couraged him,  and  he  did  not  like  to  let  the 
occasion  pass  when  a  word  from  him  might 
do  so  much  for  Bertram.  His  lips  parted, 


William  Meets  with  a  Surprise    307 

but  no  words  came  —  Billy  herself  had  begun 
to  speak. 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  know  why  I'm  crying," 
she  stammered,  dabbing  her  eyes  with  her 
round  moist  ball  of  a  handerchief.  "  I  hope 
when  I'm  your  wife  I'll  learn  to  be  more  self- 
controlled.  But  you  know  I  am  young,  and 
you'll  have  to  be  patient." 

As  once  before  at  something  Billy  said,  the 
world  to  William  went  suddenly  mad.  His 
head  swam  dizzily,  and  his  throat  tightened 
so  that  he  could  scarcely  breathe.  By  sheer 
force  of  will  he  kept  his  arm  about  Billy's 
shoulder,  and  he  prayed  that  she  might  not 
know  how  numb  and  cold  it  had  grown.  Even 
then  he  thought  he  could  not  have  heard 
aright. 

"  Er  —  you  said  —  "he  questioned  faintly. 

"  I  say  when  I'm  your  wife  I  hope  I'll 
learn  to  be  more  self -controlled, "  laughed 
Billy,  nervously.  "  You  see  I  just  thought  I 
ought  to  remind  you  that  I  am  young,  and 
that  you'll  have  to  be  patient." 

William  stammered  something  —  a  hur- 
ried something;  he  wondered  afterward 


308  Miss  Billy 

what  it  was.  That  it  must  have  been  satis- 
factory to  Billy  was  evident,  for  she  began 
laughingly  to  talk  again.  What  she  said, 
William  scarcely  knew,  though  he  was  con- 
scious of  making  an  occasional  vague  reply. 
He  was  still  floundering  in  a  hopeless  sea  of 
confusion  and  dismay.  His  own  desire  was 
to  get  up  and  say  good  night  at  once.  He 
wanted  to  be  alone  to  think.  He  realized, 
however,  with  sickening  force,  that  men  do 
not  propose  and  run  away  —  if  they  are  ac- 
cepted. And  he  was  accepted;  he  realized 
that,  too,  overwhelmingly.  Then  he  tried  to 
think  how  it  had  happened,  what  he  had  said ; 
how  she  could  so  have  misunderstood  his 
meaning.  This  line  of  thought  he  abandoned 
quickly,  however;  it  could  do  no  good.  But 
what  could  do  good,  he  asked  himself.  What 
could  he  do? 

With  blinding  force  came  the  answer: 
he  could  do  nothing.  Billy  cared  for  him. 
Billy  had  said  "  yes."  Billy  expected  to  be 
his  wife.  As  if  he  could  say  to  her  now :  "  I 
beg  your  pardon,  but  'twas  all  a  mistake.  7 
did  not  ask  you  to  marry  me." 


William  Meets  with  a  Surprise    309 

Very  valiantly  then  William  summoned 
his  wits  and  tried  to  act  his  part.  He  told 
himself,  too,  that  it  would  not  be  a  hard  one ; 
that  he  loved  Billy  dearly,  and  that  he  would 
try  to  make  her  happy.  He  winced  a  little 
at  this  thought,  for  he  remembered  sud- 
denly how  old  he  was  —  as  if  he,  at  his  age, 
were  a  fit  match  for  a  girl  of  twenty- 
one! 

And  then  he  looked  at  Billy.  The  girl  was 
plainly  nervous.  There  was  a  deep  flush  on 
her  cheeks  and  a  brilliant  sparkle  in  her  eyes. 
She  was  talking  rapidly  —  almost  incoher- 
ently at  times  —  and  her  voice  was  tremu- 
lous. Frequent  little  embarrassed  laughs 
punctuated  her  sentences,  and  her  fingers 
toyed  with  everything  that  came  within 
reach.  Some  time  before  she  had  sprung  to 
her  feet  and  had  turned  on  the  electric  lights ; 
and  when  she  came  back  she  had  not  taken 
her  old  position  at  William's  side,  but  had 
seated  herself  in  a  chair  near  by.  All  of 
which,  according  to  William's  eyes,  meant 
the  maidenly  shyness  of  a  girl  who  has  .j 
said  "  yes  "  to  the  man  she  loves, 


310  Miss  Billy 

William  went  home  that  night  in  a  daze. 
To  himself  he  said  that  hie  had  gone  out  in 
search  of  a  daughter,  and  had  come  back 
with  a  wife. 


CHAPTER   XXXVH 

"  WILLIAM'S  BROTHER  " 

IT  was  decided  that  for  the  present,  the 
engagement  should  not  be  known  outside  the 
family.  The  wedding  would  not  take  place 
immediately,  William  said,  and  it  was  just  as 
well  to  keep  the  matter  to  themselves  until 
plans  were  a  little  more  definite. 

The  members  of  the  family  were  told  at 
once.  Aunt  Hannah  said  ' '  Oh,  my  grief  and 
conscience !  ' '  three  times,  and  made  matters 
scarcely  better  by  adding  apologetically: 
11  Oh,  of  course  it's  all  right,  it's  all  right, 
only  —  ' :  She  did  not  finish  her  sentence, 
and  William,  who  had  told  her  the  news, 
did  not  know  whether  he  would  have  been 
more  or  less  pleased  if  she  had  finished 
it. 

Cyril  received  the  information  moodily, 
and  lapsed  at  once  into  a  fit  of  abstraction 

311 


312  Miss  Billy 

from  which  he  roused  himself  hardly  enough 
to  offer  perfunctory  congratulations  and  best 
wishes. 

Billy  was  a  little  puzzled  at  Cyril's  be- 
havior. She  had  been  sure  for  some  time 
that  Cyril  had  ceased  to  care  specially  for 
her,  even  if  he  ever  did  fancy  that  he  loved 
her.  She  had  hoped  to  keep  him  for  a  friend, 
but  of  late  she  had  been  forced  to  question 
even  his  friendliness.  He  had,  in  fact,  gone 
back  almost  to  his  old  reserve  and  taciturn 
aloofness. 

From  the  West,  in  response  to  William's 
news  of  the  engagement,  came  a  cordially 
pleased  note  in  Kate's  scrawling  handwri- 
ting. Kate,  indeed,  seemed  to  be  the  only 
member  of  the  family  who  was  genuinely  de- 
lighted with  the  coming  marriage.  As  to 
Bertram  —  Bertram  appeared  to  have  aged 
years  in  a  single  night,  so  drawn  and  white 
was  his  face  the  morning  after  William  had 
told  him  his  plans. 

William  had  dreaded  most  of  all  to  tell 
Bertram.  He  was  very  sure  that  Bertram 
himself  cared  for  Billy;  and  it  was  doubly 


"  William's  Brother"  313 

hard  because  in  William's  own  mind  was  a 
strong  conviction  that  the  younger  man  was 
decidedly  the  one  for  her.  Eealizing,  how- 
ever, that  Bertram  must  be  told,  William 
chose  a  time  for  the  telling  when  Bertram 
was  smoking  in  his  den  in  the  twilight,  with 
his  face  half  hidden  from  sight. 

Bertram  said  little  —  very  little,  that 
night ;  but  in  the  morning  he  went  straight  to 
Billy. 

Billy  was  shocked.  She  had  never  seen  the 
smiling,  self-reliant,  debonair  Bertram  like 
this. 

"  Billy,  is  this  true?  "  he  demanded.  The 
dull  misery  in  his  voice  told  Billy  that  he 
knew  the  answer  before  he  asked  the  ques- 
tion. 

1 1  Yes,  yes ;  but,  Bertram,  please  —  please 
don't  take  it  like  this!  "  she  implored. 

"  How  would  you  have  me  take  it?  ' 

* '  Why,  just  —  just  sensibly.  You  know  I 
told  you  that  —  that  the  other  never  could 
be  — •  never. ' ' 

'  *  I  know  you  said  so ;  but  I  —  believed 
otherwise." 


314  Miss  Billy 

"  But  I  told  you  —  I  did  not  love  you  — 
that  way." 

Bertram  winced.  He  rose  to  his  feet 
abruptly. 

"  I  know  you  did,  Billy.  I'm  a  fool,  of 
course,  to  think  that  I  could  ever  —  change 
it.  I  shouldn't  have  come  here,  either,  this 
morning.  But  I  —  had  to.  Good-by !  '  His 
face,  as  he  held  out  his  hand,  was  tragic  with 
renunciation. 

"  Why,  Bertram,  you  aren't  going  —  now 
—  like  this!  "  cried  the  girl.  "  You've  just 
come!  " 

The  man  turned  almost  impatiently. 

'  *  And  do  you  think  I  can  stay  —  like  this  1 
Billy,  won't  you  say  good-by?  "  he  asked  in 
a  softer  voice,  again  with  outstretched  hand. 

Billy  shook  her  head.  She  ignored  the 
hand,  and  resolutely  backed  away. 

"  No,  not  like  that.  You  are  angry  with 
me,"  she  grieved.  "  Besides,  you  make  it 
sound  as  if  —  if  you  were  going  away. ' ' 

"  I  am  going  away." 

11  Bertram!  "  There  was  terror  as  well  as 
dismay  in  Billy's  voice. 


"  William's  Brother  "  315 

Again  the  man  turned  sharply. 

"  Billy,  why  are  you  making  this  thing  so 
hard  for  me?  "he  asked  in  despair.  "  Can't 
you  see  that  I  must  go  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  can't.  And  you  mustn't  go, 
either.  There  isn't  any  reason  why  you 
should,"  urged  Billy,  talking  very  fast,  and 
working  her  ringers  nervously.  l '  Things  are 
just  the  same  as  they  were  before  —  for  you. 
I'm  just  going  to  marry  William,  but  I  wasn't 
ever  going  to  marry  you,  so  that  doesn't 
change  things  any  for  you.  Don't  you  see! 
Why,  Bertram,  you  mustn't  go  away!  There 
won't  be  anybody  left.  Cyril's  going  next 
week,  you  know;  and  if  you  go  there  won't 
be  anybody  left  but  William  and  me.  Ber- 
tram, you  mustn't  go;  don't  you  see?  I 
should  feel  lost  without  —  you!  "  Billy  was 
almost  crying  now. 

Bertram  looked  up  quickly.  An  odd 
change  had  come  to  his  face.  For  a  mo- 
merit  he  gazed  silently  into  "Billy's  agitated 
countenance;  then  he  asked  in  a  low 
voice: 

"  Billy,  did  you  think  that  after  you  and 


316  Miss  Billy 

[William  were  married  I  should  still  continue 
to  live  at  —  the  Strata  I  ' ' 

1 1  Why,  of  course  you  will !  ' '  cried  the  girl, 
indignantly.  "  Why,  Bertram,  you'll  be  my 
brother  then  —  my  real  brother ;  and  one  of 
the  very  chief est  things  I'm  anticipating 
when  I  go  there  to  live  is  the  good  times  you 
and  I  will  have  together  when  I'm  William's 
wife!" 

Bertram  drew  in  his  breath  audibly,  and 
caught  his  lower  lip  between  his  teeth.  With 
an  abrupt  movement  he  turned  his  back  and 
walked  to  the  window.  For  a  full  minute  he 
stayed  there,  watched  by  the  amazed,  dis- 
pleased eyes  of  the  girl.  When  he  came  back 
he  sat  down  quietly  in  the  chair  facing  Billy. 
His  countenance  was  grave  and  his  eyes  were 
a  little  troubled;  but  the  haggard  look  of 
misery  was  quite  gone. 

' '  Billy, ' '  he  began  gently,  ' '  you  must  for- 
give my  saying  this,  but  —  are  you  quite  sure 
you  —  love  William?  " 

Billy  flushed  with  anger. 

' '  You  have  no  right  to  ask  such  a  question. 
Qf  course  I  love  William." 


41  William's  Brother  "  317 

*  *  Of  course  you  do  —  we  all  love  William. 
William  is,  in  fact,  a  most  lovable  man.  But 
William's  wife  should,  perhaps,  love  him  a 
little  differently  from  —  all  of  us." 

"  And  she  will,  certainly,"  retorted  the 
girl,  with  a  quick  lifting  of  her  chin.  "  Ber- 
tram, I  don't  think  you  have  any  right  to  — 
to  make  such  insinuations." 

"  And  I  won't  make  them  any  more,"  re- 
plied Bertram,  gravely.  ' '  I  just  wanted  you 
to  make  sure  that  you  —  knew." 

"  I  shall  make  sure,  and  I  shall  know," 
said  Billy,  firmly  —  so  firmly  that  it  sounded 
almost  as  if  she  were  trying  to  convince  her- 
self as  well  as  others. 

There  was  a  long  pause,  then  the  man 
asked  diffidently : 

11  And  so  you  are  very  sure  that  —  that 
you  want  me  to  —  stay?  r 

11  Indeed  I  do!  Besides,  —  don't  you  re- 
member?—  there  are  all  my  people  to  be 
entertained.  They  must  be  taken  to  places, 
and  given  motor  rides  and  picnics.  You  told 
me  last  week  that  you'd  love  to  help  me ;  but, 
of  course,  if  you  don't  want  to —  " 


318  Miss  Billy 

"  But  I  do  want  to,"  cried  Bertram,  heart- 
ily, a  gleam  of  the  old  cheerfulness  springing 
t©  his  eyes.  "I'm  dying  to!  " 

The  girl  looked  up  with  quick  distrust. 
For  a  moment  she  eyed  him  with  bent  brows. 
To  her  mind  he  had  gone  back  to  his  old  airy, 
hopeful  light-heartedness.  He  was  once  more 
"  only  Bertram."  She  hesitated,  then  said 
with  stern  decision: 

"  Bertram,  you  know  I  want  you,  and  you 
must  know  that  I'm  delighted  to  have  you 
drop  this  silly  notion  of  going  away.  But  if 
this  quick  change  means  that  you  are  staying 
with  any  idea  that  —  that  7  shall  change, 
then  —  then  you  must  go.  But  if  you  will  stay 
as  William's  brother  —  then  I'll  be  more  than 
glad  to  have  you." 

"I'll  stay  — as  William's  brother," 
agreed  Bertram ;  and  Billy  did  not  notice  the 
quick  indrawing  of  his  breath  nor  the  close 
shutting  of  his  lips  after  the  words  were 
spoken. 


CHAPTER   XXXVm 

THE   ENGAGEMENT   OF    TWO 

BY  the  middle  of  July  the  routine  of  Billy's 
days  was  well  established.  Marie  had  been 
for  a  week  a  welcome  addition  to  the  family, 
and  she  was  proving  to  be  of  invaluable  aid 
in  entertaining  Billy's  guests.  The  over- 
worked widow  and  the  little  lodging-house 
keeper  from  the  "West  End  were  enjoying 
Billy's  hospitality  now;  and  just  to  look  at 
their  beaming  countenances  was  an  inspira- 
tion, Billy  said. 

Cyril  had  gone  abroad.  Aunt  Hannah  was 
spending  a  week  at  the  North  Shore  with 
friends.  Bertram,  true  to  his  promise,  was 
playing  the  gallant  to  Billy's  guests;  and 
so  assiduous  was  he  in  his  attentions  that 
Billy  at  last  remonstrated  with  him. 

"  But  I  didn't  mean  them  to  take  all  your 
time,"  she  protested. 

819 


320  Miss  Billy 

"  Don't  they  like  it?  Do  they  see  too  much 
of  me?  "  he  demanded. 

' '  No,  no !  They  love  it,  of  course.  You 
must  know  that.  Nobody  else  could  give  such 
beautiful  times  as  you've  given  us.  But  it's 
yourself  I'm  thinking  of.  You're  giving  up 
all  your  time.  Besides,  I  didn't  mean  to  keep 
you  here  all  summer,  of  course.  You  always 
go  away  some,  you  know,  for  a  vacation." 

"  But  I'm  having  a  vacation  here,  doing 
this,"  laughed  Bertram.  "I'm  sure  I'm  get- 
ting sea  air  down  to  the  beaches  and  moun- 
tain air  out  to  the  Blue  Hills.  And  as  for 
excitement  —  if  you  can  find  anything  more 
wildly  exciting  than  it  was  yesterday  when 
Miss  Marie  and  I  took  the  widow  and  the 
spinster  lady  on  the  Roller-coaster  —  just 
show  it  to  me;  that's  all!  ': 

Billy  laughed. 

"  They  told  me  about  it  —  Marie  in  par- 
ticular. She  said  you  were  lovely  to  them, 
and  let  them  do  every  single  thing  they 
wanted  to ;  and  that  half  an  hour  after  they 
got  there  they  were  like  two  children  let  out 
of  school.  Dear  me,  I  wish  I'd  gone.  I  never 


The  Engagement  of  Two        321 

stay  at  home  that  I  don't  miss  something," 
she  finished  regretfully. 

Bertram  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  If  it's  Roller-coasters  and  Chute-the- 
chutes  that  you  want,  I  fancy  you'll  get 
enough  before  the  week  is  out,"  he  sighed 
laughingly.  "  They  said  they'd  like  to  go 
there  to-morrow,  please,  when  I  asked  them 
what  we  should  do  next.  What  surprises  me 
is  that  they  like  such  things  —  such  hair- 
raising  things.  When  I  first  saw  them, 
black-gowned  and  stiff -backed,  sitting  in  your 
little  room  here,  I  thought  I  should  never 
dare  offer  them  anything  more  wildly  exciting 
than  a  church  service  or  a  lecture  on  psychol- 
ogy, with  perhaps  a  band  concert  hinted  at, 
provided  the  band  could  be  properly  in- 
structed beforehand  as  to  tempo  and  selec- 
tions. But  now  —  really,  Billy,  why  do  you 
suppose  they  have  taken  such  a  fancy  to  these 
kiddish  stunts  —  those  two  staid  women?  ' 

Billy  laughed,  but  her  eyes  softened. 

"  I  don't  know  unless  it's  because  all  their 
lives  they've  been  tied  to  such  dead  monotony 
that  just  the  exhilaration  of  motion  is  bliss 


322  Miss  Billy 

to  them.  But  you  won't  always  have  to  risk 
your  neck  and  your  temper  in  this  fashion, 
Bertram.  Next  week  my  little  couple  from 
South  Boston  comes.  She  adores  pictures 
and  stuffed  animals.  You'll  have  to  do  the 
museums  with  her.  Then  there's  little  crip- 
pled Tommy  —  he'll  be  perfectly  contented  if 
you'll  put  him  down  where  he  can  hear  the 
band  play.  And  all  you'll  have  to  do  when 
that  one  stops  is  to  pilot  him  to  the  next  one. 
This  is  good  of  you,  Bertram,  and  I  do  thank 
you  for  it,"  finished  Billy,  fervently,  just  as 
Marie,  the  widow,  and  the  "  spinster  lady  ' 
entered  the  room. 

Billy  told  herself  these  days  that  she  was 
very  happy  —  very  happy  indeed.  Was  she 
not  engaged  to  a  good  man,  and  did  she  not 
also  have  it  in  her  power  to  make  the  long 
summer  days  a  pleasure  to  many  people? 
The  fact  that  she  had  to  tell  herself  that  she 
was  happy  in  order  to  convince  herself  that 
she  was  so,  did  not  occur  to  Billy  —  yet. 

Not  long  after  Marie  arrived,  Billy  told 
her  of  the  engagement.  William  was  at  the 
house  very  frequently,  and  owing  to  the  in- 


The  Engagement  of  Two        323 

timacy  of  Marie's  relationship  with  the 
family  Billy  decided  to  tell  her  how  matters 
stood.  Marie's  reception  of  the  news  was 
somewhat  surprising.  First  she  looked 
frightened. 

"To    William?  —  you    are    engaged    to 
William?  " 

"  Why  — yes." 

"But  I  thought  —  surely  it  was  —  don't 
you  mean  —  Mr.  Cyril  ?  ' 

"  No,  I  don't,"  laughed  Billy.  "  And  cer- 
tainly I  ought  to  know." 

"  And  you  don't  —  care  for  him?  ' 

"  I  hope  not  —  if  I'm  going  to  marry  Will- 
iam." 

So  light  was  Billy's  voice  and  manner  that 
Marie  dared  one  more  question. 

"  And  he  —  doesn't  care  —  for  you?  ' 

"I  hope  not  —  if  William  is  going  to 
marry  me,"  laughed  Billy  again. 

"  Oh-h!  "  breathed  Marie,  with  an  odd  in- 
tonation of  relief.  "Then  I'm  glad— so 
glad !  And  I  hope  you  '11  be  very,  very  happy, 
dear." 

Billy  looked  into  Marie's  glowing  face  and 


324  Miss  Billy 

was  pleased:  there  seemed  to  be  so  few,  so 
very  few  faces  into  which  she  had  looked  and 
found  entire  approbation  of  her  engage- 
ment to  William. 

Billy  saw  a  great  deal  of  William  now.  He 
was  always  kind  and  considerate,  and  he 
tried  to  help  her  entertain  her  guests;  but 
Billy,  grateful  as  she  was  to  him  for  his  ef- 
forts, was  relieved  when  he  resigned  his  place 
to  Bertram.  Bertram  did,  indeed,  know  so 
much  better  how  to  do  it.  William  tried  to 
help  her,  too,  about  training  her  vines  and 
rosebushes;  but  of  course,  even  in  this,  he 
could  not  be  expected  to  show  quite  the  in- 
terest that  Bertram  manifested  in  every 
green  shoot  and  opening  bud,  for  he  had  not 
helped  her  plant  them,  as  Bertram  had. 

Billy  was  a  little  troubled  sometimes,  that 
she  did  not  feel  more  at  ease  with  William. 
She  thought  it  natural  that  she  should  feel  a 
little  diffident  with  him,  in  the  face  of  his  sud- 
den change  from  an  "  uncle  "  to  an  accepted 
lover;  but  she  did  not  see  why  she  should  be 
afraid  of  him  —  yet  she  was.  She  owned  that 
to  herself  unhappily.  And  he  was  so  good  I 


The  Engagement  of  Two        325 

—  she  owned  that,  too.  He  seemed  not  to 
have  a  thought  in  the  world  but  for  her  com- 
fort and  happiness ;  and  there  was  no  end  to 
the  tactful  little  things  he  was  always  doing 
for  her  pleasure.  He  seemed,  also,  to  have 
divined  that  she  did  not  like  to  be  kissed  and 
caressed;  and  only  occasionally  did  he  kiss 
her,  and  then  it  was  merely  a  sort  of  fatherly 
salute  on  her  forehead  —  for  which  consid- 
eration Billy  was  grateful:  Billy  decided 
that  she  would  not  like  to  be  kissed  on  the 
lips. 

After  some  days  of  puzzling  over  the  mat- 
ter Billy  concluded  that  it  was  self -conscious- 
ness that  caused  all  the  trouble.  With  Will- 
iam she  was  self-conscious.  If  she  could  only 
forget  that  she  was  some  day  to  be  William's 
wife,  the  old  delightful  comradeship  would 
return,  and  she  would  be  at  ease  again  with 
him.  In  time,  after  she  had  become  accus- 
tomed to  the  idea  of  marriage,  it  would  not 
so  confuse  her,  of  course.  She  loved  him 
dearly,  and  she  wanted  to  make  him  happy; 
but  for  the  present  —  just  while  she  was 
"  getting  used  to  things  "  —  she  would  try 


326  Miss  Billy 


to  forget,  sometimes,  that  she  was  going  to 
be  William's  wife. 

Billy  was  happier  now.  She  was  always 
happier  after  she  had  thought  things  out  to 
her  own  satisfaction.  She  turned  with  new 
zest  to  the  entertainment  of  her  guests ;  and 
with  Bertram  she  planned  many  delightful 
trips  for  their  pleasure.  Bertram  was  a 
great  comfort  to  her  these  days.  Never,  in 
word  or  look,  could  she  see  that  he  over- 
stepped the  role  which  he  had  promised  to 
play  —  William's  brother. 

Billy  went  back  to  her  music,  too.  A  new 
melody  was  running  through  her  head,  and 
she  longed  to  put  it  on  paper.  Already  her 
first  little  "  Group  of  Songs  "  had  found 
friends,  and  Billy,  to  a  very  modest  extent, 
was  beginning  to  taste  the  sweets  of  fame. 

Thus,  by  all  these  interests,  did  Billy  try 
"  to  get  used  to  things." 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

A  LITTLE   PIECE   OF   PAPER 

OP  all  Billy's  guests,  Marie  was  very 
plainly  the  happiest.  She  was  a  permanent 
guest,  it  is  true,  while  the  others  came  for 
only  a  week  or  two  at  a  time ;  but  it  was  not 
this,  Billy  decided,  that  had  brought  so 
brilliant  a  sparkle  to  Marie's  eyes,  so  joyous 
a  laugh  to  her  lips.  The  joyousness  was  all 
the  more  noticeable,  because  heretofore 
Marie,  while  very  sweet,  had  been  also  sad. 
Her  big  blue  eyes  had  always  carried  a  haunt- 
ing shadow,  and  her  step  had  lacked  the 
spring  belonging  to  youth  and  happiness. 
Certainly,  Billy  had  never  seen  her  like  this 
before. 

"  Verily,  Marie,"  she  teased  one  day, 
"  have  you  found  an  exhaustless  supply  of 
stockings  to  mend,  or  a  never-done  pudding 
to  make — -which?  " 

827 


328  Miss  Billy 

"Why?    What  do  you  mean!  " 

"  Oh,  nothing.  I  was  only  wondering  just 
what  had  brought  that  new  light  to  your 
eyes." 

* '  Is  there  a  new  light !  ' ' 

"  There  certainly  is." 

"  It  must  be  because  I'm  so  happy,  then," 
sighed  Marie;  "  because  you're  so  good  to 
me." 

"  Is  that  all?  " 

"  Isn't  that  enough!  "  Marie's  tone  was 
evasive. 

"  No."  Billy  shook  her  head  mischiev- 
ously. "  Marie,  what  is  it?  " 

"  It's  nothing  —  really,  it's  nothing,"  pro- 
tested Marie,  hurrying'  out  of  the  room  with 
a  nervous  laugh. 

Billy  frowned.  She  was  suspicious  before ; 
she  was  sure  now.  In  less  than  twelve  hours' 
time  came  her  opportunity.  She  was  alone 
again  with  Marie. 

"  Marie,  who  is  he?  "  she  asked  abruptly. 

"He?    Who?" 

"  The  man  who  is  to  wear  the  stockings 
and  eat  the  pudding." 


A  Little  Piece  of  Paper        329 

The  little  music  teacher  flushed  very  red, 
but  she  managed  to  display  something  that 
might  pass  for  surprise. 

"  Billy!  " 

"  Come,  dear,"  coaxed  Billy,  winningly. 
"  Tell  me  about  it.  I'm  so  interested!  " 

"  But  there  isn't  anything  to  tell  —  really 
there  isn't." 

"  Who  is  he?  " 

"  He  isn't  anybody  —  that  is,  he  doesn't 
know  he 's  anybody, ' '  amended  Marie. 

Billy  laughed  softly. 

"  Oh,  doesn't  he!  Hasn't  he  ever  shown 
-that  he  cared?  " 

"  No;  that  is  —  perhaps  he  has,  only  I 
thought  then  —  that  it  was  —  another  girl. ' ' 

* '  Another  girl !  So  there 's  another  girl  in 
the  case?  " 

"  Yes.  I  mean,  no,"  corrected  Marie,  sud- 
denly beginning  to  realize  what  she  was  say- 
ing. "  Really,  it  wasn't  anything  —  it  isn't 
anything!  "  she  protested. 

"  Hm-m,"  murmured  Billy,  archly.  "  Oh, 
I'm  getting  on  some !  He  did  show,  once,  that 
he  cared;  but  you  thought  it  was  another 


330  Miss  Billy 

girl,  and  you  coldly  looked  the  other  way. 
Now,  there  isn't  any  other  girl,  you  find,  and 
—  Marie,  tell  me  the  rest !  ' 

Marie  shook  her  head  emphatically,  and 
pulled  herself  gently  away  from  Billy's 
grasp. 

"  No,  no,  please!  "  she  begged.  "  It  really 
isn't  anything.  I'm  sure  I'm  imagining  it 
all!  "  she  cried,  as  she  ran  away. 

During  the  days  that  followed,  Billy  specu- 
lated not  a  little  on  Marie's  half-told  story, 
and  wondered  interestedly  who  the  man 
might  be.  She  questioned  Marie  once  again, 
but  the  girl  would  tell  nothing  more;  and, 
indeed,  Billy  was  so  occupied  with  her  own 
perplexities  that  she  had  little  time  for  those 
of  other  people. 

To  herself  Billy  was  forced  to  own  that  she 
was  not  "  getting  used  to  things."  She  was 
still  self-conscious  with  William;  she  could 
not  forget  that  she  was  one  day  to  be  his  wife. 
She  could  not  bring  back  the  dear  old  free- 
dom of  comradeship  with  him. 

Billy  was  alarmed  now.  She  had  begun  to 
ask  herself  searching  questions.  What 


A  Little  Piece  of  Paper         331 

should  she  do  if  never,  never  should  she  get 
used  to  the  idea  of  marrying  William?  How 
could  she  marry  him  if  he  was  still  "  Uncle 
William,"  and  never  her  dear  lover  in  her 
eyes?  Why  had  she  not  been  wise  enough 
and  brave  enough  to  tell  him  in  the  first  place 
that  she  was  not  at  all  sure  that  she  loved 
him,  but  that  she  would  try  to  do  so1?  Then 
when  she  had  tried  —  as  she  had  now  —  and 
failed,  she  could  have  told  him  honestly  the 
truth,  and  it  would  not  have  been  so  great  a 
shock  to  him  as  it  must  be  now,  if  she  should 
tell  him. 

Billy  had  remorsefully  come  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  she  could  never  love  any  man  well 
enough  to  marry  him,  when  one  day  so  small 
a  thing  as  a  piece  of  paper  fluttered  into  her 
vision,  and  showed  her  the  fallacy  of  that 
idea. 

It  was  a  half-sheet  of  note  paper,  and  it 
blew  from  Marie's  balcony  to  the  lawn  below. 
Billy  found  it  there  later,  and  as  she  picked  it 
up  her  eyes  fell  on  a  single  name  in  Marie's 
handwriting  inscribed  half,  a  dozen  times  as  if 
the  writer  had  musingly  accompanied  her 


332  Miss  Billy 

thoughts  with  her  pen;  and  the  name  was, 
"  Marie  Henshaw." 

For  a  moment  Billy  stared  at  the  name  per- 
plexedly  —  then  in  a  flash  came  the  remem- 
brance of  Marie's  words;  and  Billy 
breathed :  * '  Henshaw !  —  the  man  —  Ber- 
tram! " 

Billy  dropped  the  paper  then  and  fled.  In 
her  own  room,  behind  locked  doors,  she  sat 
down  to  think. 

Bertram!  It  was  he  for  whom  Marie 
cared  —  her  Bertram!  And  then  it  came  to 
Billy  with  staggering  force  that  he  was  not 
her  Bertram  at  all.  He  never  could  be  her 
Bertram  now.  He  was  —  Marie's. 

Billy  was  frightened  then,  so  fierce  was  this 
strange  new  something  that  rose  within 
her  —  this  overpowering  something  that 
seemed  to  blot  out  all  the  world,  and  leave 
only  —  Bertram.  She  knew  then,  that  it  had 
always  been  Bertram  to  whom  she  had 
turned,  though  she  had  been  blind  to  the 
cause  of  that  turning.  Always  her  plans  had 
included  him.  Always  she  had  been  the  hap- 
piest in  Ms  presence ;  never  had  she  pictured 


A  Little  Piece  of  Paper         333 

him  anywhere  else  but  at  her  side.  Certainly 
never  had  she  pictured  him  as  the  devoted 
lover  of  another  woman!  .  .  .  And  she  had 
not  known  what  it  all  meant  —  poor  blind 
child  that  she  was ! 

Very  resolutely  now  Billy  set  herself  to 
looking  matters  squarely  in  the  face.  She 
understood  it  quite  well.  All  summer  Marie 
and  Bertram  had  been  thrown  together.  No 
wonder  Marie  had  fallen  in  love  with  Ber- 
tram, and  that  he  —  Billy  thought  she  com- 
prehended now  why  Bertram  had  found  it  so 
easy  for  the  last  few  weeks  to  be  William 's 
brother.  She,  of  course,  had  been  the  "  other 
girl  "  whom  Marie  had  once  feared  that  the 
man  loved.  It  was  all  so  clear  —  so  woefully 
clear ! 

With  an  aching  heart  Billy  asked  herself 
what  now  was  to  be  done.  For  herself,  turn 
whichever  way  she  could,  she  could  see  noth- 
ing but  uuhappiness.  She  determined,  there- 
fore, with  Spartan  fortitude,  that  to  no  one 
else  would  she  bring  equal  unhappiness.  She 
would  be  silent.  Bertram  and  Marie  loved 
each  other.  That  matter  was  settled.  As  to 


334  Miss  Billy 

William  —  Billy  thought  of  the  story  William 
had  told  her  of  his  lonely  life,  —  of  the  plea 
he  had  made  to  her;  and  her  heart  ached. 
Whatever  happened,  William  must  be  made 
happy.  William  must  not  be  told.  Her 
promise  to  William  must  be  kept. 


WILLIAM   PAYS   A   VISIT 

BEFORE  September  passed  all  Billy's 
friends  said  that  her  summer's  self-ap- 
pointed task  had  been  too  hard  for  her.  In 
no  other  way  could  they  account  for  the  sad 
change  that  had  come  to  her. 

Undeniably  Billy  looked  really  ill.  Always 
slender,  she  was  shadow-like  now.  Her  eyes 
had  found  again  the  wistful  appeal  of  her 
girlhood,  only  now  they  carried  something 
that  was  almost  fear,  as  well.  The  rose-flush 
had  gone  from  her  cheeks,  and  pathetic  little 
hollows  had  appeared,  making  the  round 
young  chin  below  look  almost  pointed.  Cer- 
tainly Billy  did  seem  to  be  ill. 

Late  in  September  William  went  West  on 
business.  Incidentally  he  called  to  see  his 

sister,  Kate. 

885 


336  Miss  Billy 

"  Well,  and  how  is  everybody?  "  asked 
Kate,  cheerily,  after  the  greetings  were 
over. 

"William  sighed. 

'  *  Well,  *  everybody, '  to  me,  Kate,  is  pretty 
badly  off.  We  're  worried  about  Billy. ' ' 

"  Billy!  You  don't  mean  she's  sick? 
Why,  she's  always  been  the  picture  of 
health!  " 

"  I  know  she  has ;  but  she  isn't  now." 

11  What's  the  trouble?  " 

"  That's  what  we  don't  know." 

"  You've  had  the  doctor?  " 

"  Of  course;  two  or  three  of  them- 
though  much  against  Billy's  will.  But- 
they  didn't  help  us." 

"  What  did  they  say?  " 

11  They  could  find  nothing  except  perhaps 
a  little  temporary  stomach  trouble,  or  some- 
thing of  that  kind,  which  they  all  agreed 
was  no  just  cause  for  her  present  condi- 
tion." 

"  But  what  did  they  say  it  was?  ' 

"  Why,  they  said  it  seemed  like  nervous- 
ness, or  as  if  something  was  troubling  her. 


William  Pays  a  Visit  337 

They  asked  if  she  weren't  under  some  sort  of 
strain." 

"  Well,  is  she?  Does  anything  trouble 
her?  " 

1 1  Not  that  I  know  of.  Anyhow,  if  there  is 
anything,  none  of  us  can  find  out  what  it 
is." 

Kate  frowned.  She  threw  a  quick  look  into 
her  brother's  face. 

"  William,"  she  began  hesitatingly,  "  for- 
give me,  but  —  Billy  is  quite  happy  in  —  her 
engagement,  I  suppose." 

The  man  flushed  painfully,  and  sighed. 

"  I've  thought  of  that,  of  course.  In  fact, 
it  was  the  first  thing  I  did  think  of.  I  even 
began  to  watch  her  rather  closely,  and  once 
I  —  questioned  her  a  little." 

"  What  did  she  say?  " 

"  She  seemed  so  frightened  and  distressed 
that  I  didn't  say  much  myself.  I  couldn't.  I 
had  but  just  begun  when  her  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  and  she  asked  me  in  a  frightened  little 
voice  if  she  had  done  anything  to  displease 
me,  anything  to  make  me  unhappy;  and  she 
seemed  so  anxious  and  grieved  and  dismayed 


338  Miss  Billy 

that  I  should  even  question  her,  that  I  had  to 
stop." 

'  *  .What  has  she  done  this  summer !  Where 
has  she  been?  ' 

"  She  hasn't  been  anywhere.  Didn't  I 
write  you?  She's  kept  open  house  for  a  lot 
of  her  less  fortunate  friends  —  a  sort  of  va- 
cation home,  you  know ;  and  —  and  I  must 
say  she's  given  them  a  world  of  happiness, 
too." 

"  But  wasn't  that  hard  for  her?  " 

"  It  didn't  seem  to  be.  She  appeared  to 
enjoy  it  immensely,  particularly  at  first.  Of 
course  she  had  plenty  of  help,  and  that  won- 
derful little  Miss  Hawthorn  has  been  a  host 
in  herself.  They're  all  gone  now,  anyway, 
except  Miss  Hawthorn." 

'  *  But  Billy  must  have  had  the  care  and  the 
excitement. ' ' 

"  Perhaps  —  to  a  certain  extent.  Though 
not  much,  after  all.  You  see  Bertram,  too, 
has  given  up  his  summer  to  them,  and  has 
been  playing  the  devoted  escort  to  the  whole 
bunch.  Indeed,  for  the  last  few  weeks  of  it, 
since  Billy  began  to  seem  so  ill,  he  and  Miss 


William  Pays  a  Visit  339 

Hawthorn  have  schemed  to  take  all  the  care 
from  Billy,  and  they  have  done  the  whole 
thing  together." 

'  *  But  what  has  Billy  done  to  make  her  like 
this?" 

"  I  don't  know.  She's  done  lots  for  me, 
in  all  sorts  of  ways  —  cataloguing  my  curios, 
you  know,  and  going  with  me  to  hunt  up 
things.  In  fact,  she  seems  the  happiest  when 
she  is  doing  something  for  me.  It's  come  to 
be  a  sort  of  mania  with  her,  I  'm  afraid  —  to 
do  something  for  me.  Kate,  I'm  really  wor- 
ried. What  do  you  suppose  is  the  matter?  ' 

Kate  shook  her  head.  The  puzzled  frown 
had  come  back  to  her  face. 

"  I  can't  imagine,"  she  began  slowly. 
"  Of  course,  when  I  told  her  you  loved  her 
and—" 

"  When  you  told  her  wha-at?  "  exploded 
the  usually  low-voiced  William,  with  sudden 
sharpness. 

' '  When  I  told  her  that  you  loved  her,  Will- 
iam. You  see,  I  —  " 

William  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Told  her  that  I  loved  her!  "  he  cried, 


340  Miss  Billy 

aghast.  ' '  Good  heavens,  Kate,  do  you  mean 
to  say  that  you  told  her  that?  ' 

1  *  Why,  y-yes. ' ' 

"  And  may  I  ask  where  you  got  your  in- 
formation? " 

"  Why,  William  Henshaw,  what  a  ques- 
tion! I  got  it  from  yourself,  of  course,"  de- 
fended Kate. 

"  From  me!  '  William's  face  expressed 
sheer  amazement. 

"  Certainly;  on  that  drive  when  I  was 
East  in  June,"  returned  Kate,  with  dignity. 
"  You  evidently  have  forgotten  it,  but  I  have 
not.  You  told  me  very  frankly  how  much  you 
thought  of  her,  and  how  you  longed  to  have 
her  back  there  with  you,  but  that  she  didn't 
seem  to  be  ready  to  come.  I  was  sorry  for 
you,  and  I  wanted  to  do  something  to  help, 
particularly  as  it  might  have  been  my  fault, 
partly,  that  she  went  away,  in  the  first 
place. ' ' 

William  lifted  his  head. 

' '  What  do  you  mean  ?  ' ' 

' '  Why,  nothing,  only  that  I  —  I  told  her  a 
little  of  how  —  how  upsetting  her  arrival  had 


William  Pays  a  Visit  341 

been  to  everything,  and  of  how  much  you  had 
done  for  her,  and  put  yourself  out.  I  said  it 
so  she'd  appreciate  things,  of  course,  but  she 
took  it  quite  differently  from  what  I  had  in- 
tended she  should  take  it,  and  seemed  quite 
cut  up  about  it.  Then  she  went  away  in  that 
silly,  impulsive  fashion." 

William  bit  his  lip,  but  he  did  not  speak. 
Kate  was  plunging  on  feverishly,  and  in  the 
face  of  the  greater  revelation  he  let  the  les- 
ser one  drop. 

"  And  so  that's  why  I  was  particularly 
anxious  to  bring  things  around  right  again," 
continued  Kate.  "  And  that's  why  I  spoke. 
I  thought  I'd  seen  how  things  were,  and  on 
the  drive  I  said  so.  Then  is  when  I  advised 
you  to  speak  to  Billy ;  but  you  declared  that 
Billy  wasn't  ready,  and  that  you  couldn't 
make  a  girl  marry  against  her  will.  Now 
don't  you  recollect  it?  ' 

A  great  light  of  understanding  broke  over 
William's  face.  He  started  to  speak,  but 
something  evidently  stayed  the  words  on  his 
lips.  With  controlled  deliberation  he  turned 
and  sat  down.  Then  he  said : 


342  Miss  Billy 

"  Kate,  will  you  kindly  tell  me  just  what 
you  did  do?  " 

"  Why,  I  didn't  do  so  very  much.  I  just 
tried  to  help,  that's  all.  After  I  talked  with 
you,  and  advised  you  to  ask  Billy  right  away 
to  marry  you,  I  went  to  her.  I  thought  she 
cared  for  you  already,  anyway;  but  I  just 
wanted  to  tell  her  how  very  much  it  was  to 
you,  and  so  sojt  of  pave  the  way.  And  now 
comes  the  part  that  I  started  to  tell  you  a 
little  while  ago  when  you  caught  me  up  so 
sharply.  I  was  going  to  say  that  when  I  told 
Billy  this,  she  appeared  to  be  surprised,  and 
almost  frightened.  You  see,  she  hadn't 
known  you  cared  for  her,  after  all,  and  so  I 
had  a  chance  to  help  and  make  it  plain  to  her 
how  you  did  love  her,  so  that  when  you  spoke 
everything  would  be  all  right.  There,  that's 
all.  You  see  I  didn't  do  so  very  much." 

' '  *  So  very  much  ' !  "  groaned  William, 
starting  to  his  feet.  '  *  Great  Scott !  ' 

"  Why,  William,  what  do  you  mean? 
Where  are  you  going?  " 

"  I'm  going  — to  — Billy,"  retorted  Will- 
iam with  slow  distinctness.  "  And  I'm  going 


William  Pays  a  Visit  343 

to  try  to  get  there  —  before  —  you  —  can!  ' 
And  with  this  extraordinary  shot  —  for  Will- 
iam—  he  left  the  house. 

William  went  to  Billy  as  fast  as  steam 
could  carry  him.  He  found  her  in  her  little 
drawing-room  listlessly  watching  with  Aunt 
Hannah  the  game  of  chess  that  Bertram  and 
Marie  were  playing. 

"  Billy,  you  poor,  dear  child,  come  here," 
he  said  abruptly,  as  soon  as  the  excitement  of 
his  unexpected  arrival  had  passed.  "  I  want 
to  talk  to  you."  And  he  led  the  way  to  the 
veranda  which  he  knew  would  be  silent  and 
deserted. 

"  To  talk  to  —  me?  "  murmured  Billy,  as 
she  wonderingly  came  to  his  side,  a  startled 
questioning  in  her  wide  dark  eyes. 


CHAPTER   XLI 

THE    CROOKED    MADE    STRAIGHT 

WILLIAM  did  not  reenter  the  house  aftei 
his  talk  with  Billy  on  the  veranda. 

"  I  will  go  down  the  steps  and  around  by 
the  rose  garden  to  the  street,  dear,"  he  said. 
"I'd  rather  not  go  in  now.  Just  make  my 
adieus,  please,  and  say  that  I  couldn't  stay 
any  longer.  And  now  —  good-by. ' '  His  eyes 
as  they  looked  down  at  her,  were  moist  and 
very  tender.  His  lips  trembled  a  little,  but 
they  smiled,  and  there  was  a  look  of  new-born 
peace  and  joy  on  his  face. 

Billy,  too,  was  smiling,  though  wistfully. 
The  frightened  questioning  had  gone  from 
her  eyes,  leaving  only  infinite  tenderness. 

'  *  You    are    sure    it  —  it    is    all    right  - 
now!  "  she  stammered. 

"  Very  sure,  little  girl;   and  it's  the  first 

344 


The  Crooked  Made  Straight      345 

time  it  has  been  right  for  weeks.  Billy,  that 
was  very  dear  of  you,  and  I  love  you  for  it; 
but  think  how  near  —  how  perilously  near 
you  came  to  lifelong  misery !  ' ' 

1 1  But  I  thought  —  you  wanted  me  —  so 
much,"  she  smiled  shyly. 

* '  And  I  did,  and  I  do  —  for  a  daughter. 
You  don't  doubt  that  now  ?  '' 

"  No,  oh,  no,"  laughed  Billy,  softly;  and 
to  her  face  came  a  happy  look  of  relief  as  she 
finished:  "  And  I'll  be  so  glad  to  be  —  the 
daughter !  ' ' 

For  some  minutes  after  the  man  had  gone, 
Billy  stood  by  the  steps  where  he  had  left  her. 
She  was  still  there  when  Bertram  came  to  the 
veranda  door  and  spoke  to  her. 

"  Billy,  I  saw  William  go  by  the  window, 
so  I  knew  you  were  alone.  May  I  speak  to 
you?  " 

The  girl  turned  with  a  start. 

"Why,  of  course!  What  is  it?  — but  I 
thought  you  were  playing.  Where  is 
Marie?  " 

"  The  game  is  finished;  besides  —  Billy, 
why  are  you  always  asking  me  lately  where 


346  Miss  Billy 

Marie  is,  as  if  I  were  her  keeper,  or  she 
mine?  "  he  demanded,  with  a  touch  of  nerv- 
ous irritation. 

"  .Why,  nothing,  Bertram,"  smiled  Billy, 
a  little  wearily ; '  *  only  that  you  were  playing 
together  a  few  minutes  ago,  and  i  wondered 
where  she  had  gone." 

"  '  A  few  minutes  ago  '!  "  echoed  Ber- 
tram with  sudden  bitterness.  "  Evidently 
the  time  passed  swiftly  with  you,  Billy.  Will- 
iam was  out  here  more  than  an  hour. ' ' 

"Why  — Bertram!  " 

"  Yes,  I  know.  I've  no  business  to  say 
that,  of  course,"  sighed  the  man;  "  but, 
Billy,  that's  why  I  came  out  —  because  I 
must  speak  to  you  this  once.  Won't  you 
come  and  sit  down,  please?  "  he  implored 
despairingly. 

"  Why,  Bertram,"  murmured  Billy  again, 
faintly,  as  she  turned  toward  the  vine-shaded 
corner  and  sat  down.  Her  eyes  were 
startled.  A  swift  color  had  come  to  her 
cheeks. 

11  Billy,"  began  the  man,  in  a  sternly  con- 
trolled voice,  "  please  let  me  speak  this  once, 


The  Crooked  Made  Straight      347 

and  don't  try  to  stop  me.  You  may  think, 
for  a  moment,  that  it's  disloyal  to  William 
if  you  listen;  but  it  isn't.  There's  this  much 
due  to  me  —  that  you  let  me  speak  now. 
Billy,  I  can't  stand  it.  I've  tried,  but  it's  no 
use.  I've  got  to  go  away,  and  it's  right  that 
I  should.  I'm  not  the  only  one  that  thinks 
so,  either.  Marie  does,  too." 

"  Marie!  " 

"  Yes.  I  talked  it  all  over  with  her.  She's 
known  for  a  long  time  how  it's  been  with 
rne ;  how  I  cared  —  for  you. ' ' 

"  Marie!  You've  told  Marie  that?" 
gasped  Billy. 

"  Yes.  Surely  you  don't  mind  Marie's 
knowing,"  went  on  Bertram,  dejectedly. 
"  And  she's  been  so  good  to  me,  and  tried 
to  —  help  me. ' ' 

Bertram  was  not  looking  at  Billy  now.  If 
he  had  been  he  would  have  seen  the  incredu- 
lous joy  come  into  her  face.  His  eyes  were 
moodily  fixed  on  the  floor. 

"  And  so,  Billy,  I've  come  to  tell  you.  I'm 
going  away,"  he  continued,  after  a  moment. 
"  I've  got  to  go.  I  thought  once,  when  I  first 


348  Miss  Billy 

talked  with  you  of  William,  that  you  didn't 
know  your  own  heart ;  that  you  didn  't  really 
care  for  him.  I  was  even  fool  enough  to 
think  that  —  that  it  would  be  I  to  whom 
you'd  turn  —  some  day.  And  so  I  stayed. 
But  I  stayed  honorably,  Billy!  You  know 
that!  You  know  that  I  haven't  once 
forgotten  —  not  once,  that  I  was  only 
William's  brother.  I  promised  you  I'd 
be  that  —  and  I  have  been ;  haven 't 

i?" 

Billy  nodded  silently.  Her  face  was  turned 
away. 

"  But,  Billy,  I  can't  do  it  any  longer.  I've 
got  to  ask  for  my  promise  back,  and  then,  of 
course,  I  can't  stay." 

"But  you  —  you  don't  have  to  go  — 
away,"  murmured  the  girl,  faintly. 

Bertram  sprang  to  his  feet.  His  face  was 
white. 

"  Billy,"  he  cried,  standing  tall  and 
straight  before  her,  "  Billy,  I  love  every 
touch  of  your  hand,  every  glance  of  your  eye, 
every  word  that  falls  from  your  lips.  Do 
you  think  I  can  stay  —  now?  I  want  my 


The  Crooked  Made  Straight      349 

promise  back!     When  I'm  no  longer  Will- 
iam's brother  —  then  I'll  go!  ' 

"  But  you  don't  have  to  have  it  back — • 
that  is,  you  don't  have  to  have  it  at  all," 
stammered  Billy,  flushing  adorably.  She, 
too,  was  on  her  feet  now. 

"  Billy,  what  do  you  mean?  " 

1 1  Don 't  you  see  ?  I  —  I  have  turned, ' '  she 
faltered  breathlessly,  holding  out  both  her 
hands. 

Even  then,  in  spite  of  the  great  light  that 
leaped  to  his  eyes,  Bertram  advanced  only  a 
single  step. 

"  But  —  William?  "  he  questioned,  uobe- 
lievingly. 

"  It  was  a  mistake,  just  as  you  thought. 
We  know  now  —  both  of  us.    We  don't  either 
of  us  care  for  the  other  —  that  way.    And  — 
Bertram,  I  think  it  has  been  you  —  all  the 
time,  only  I  didn't  —  know!  *: 

' '  Billy,  Billy !  ' '  choked  Bertram  in  a  voice 
shaken  with  emotion.  He  opened  his  arms 
then,  wide  —  and  Billy  walked  straight  into 
them. 


CHAPTER   XLn 

THE   "  END    OP    THE   STORY 


IT  was  two  days  after  Billy's  new 
happiness  had  come  to  her  that  Cyril 
came  home.  He  went  very  soon  to  see 
BiUy. 

The  girl  was  surprised  at  the  change  in  his 
appearance.  He  had  grown  thin  and  hag- 
gard looking,  and  his  eyes  were  somber.  He 
moved  restlessly  about  the  room  for  a  time, 
finally  seating  himself  at  the  piano  and  let- 
ting his  fingers  slip  from  one  mournful  little 
melody  to  another.  Then  with  a  discordant 
crash,  he  turned. 

"  Billy,  do  you  think  any  girl  would  marry 
—  me?  "  he  demanded. 

"Why,  Cyril!" 

"  There,  now,  please  don't  begin  that,"  he 
begged  fretfully.  "  I  realize,  of  course,  that 
I'm  a  very  unlikely  subject  for  matrimony, 

350 


The  "  End  of  the  Story  "        351 

You  made  me  understand  that  clearly 
enough  last  winter!  '; 

"  Last  —  winter?  " 

Cyril  raised  his  eyebrows. 

"  Oh,  I  came  to  you  for  a  little  encourage- 
ment, and  to  make  a  confession,"  he  said. 
"  I  made  the  confession  —  but  I  didn't  get 
the  encouragement." 

Billy  changed  color.  She  thought  she  knew 
what  he  meant,  but  at  the  same  time  she 
couldn't  understand  why  he  should  wish  to 
refer  to  that  conversation  now. 

"A  —  confession?'  she  repeated,  hesi- 
tatingly. 

"  Yes.  I  told  you  that  I'd  begun  to  doubt 
my  being  such  a  woman-hater,  after  all.  I 
intimated  that  you'd  begun  the  softening 
process,  and  that  then  I'd  found  a  certain 
other  young  woman  who  had  —  well,  who  had 
kept  up  the  good  work." 

"  Oh!  "  cried  Billy  suddenly,  with  a 
peculiar  intonation.  "  Oh-h!  "  Then  she 
laughed  softly. 

"  Well,  that  was  the  confession,"  resumed 
Cyril.  "  Then  I  came  out  flat-footed  and 


352  Miss  Billy 

said  that  I  wanted  to  marry  her  —  but  there 
is  where  I  didn't  get  the  encouragement!  " 

11  Indeed!  I'm  afraid  I  wasn't  very  con- 
siderate," stammered  Billy. 

I  *  No,  you  weren  't, ' '  agreed  Cyril,  moodily. 
"  I  didn't  know  but  now —  "his  voice  soft- 
ened a  little  — ' i  with  this  new  happiness  of 
yours  and  Bertram's  that  —  you  might  find 
a  little  encouragement  for  me." 

II  And    I    will,"    cried    Billy,    promptly. 
"  Tell  me  about  her." 

"  I  did  —  last  winter,"  reproached  the 
man,  "  and  you  were  sure  I  was  deceiving 
myself.  You  drew  the  gloomiest  sort  of  pic- 
ture of  the  misery  I  would  take  with  a  wife." 

"  I  did?  "  Billy  was  laughing  very  mer- 
rily now. 

"  Yes.  You  said  she'd  always  be  talking 
and  laughing  when  I  wanted  to  be  quiet,  and 
that  she'd  want  to  drag  me  out  to  parties 
and  plays  when  I  wanted  to  stay  aft  home; 
and  —  oh,  lots  of  things.  I  tried  to  make  it 
«lear  to  you  that  —  that  this  little  woman 
wasn't  that  sort.  But  I  couldn't,"  finished 
Cyril,  gloomily. 


The  "  End  of  the  Story  "        353 

"  But  of  course  she  isn't,"  declared  Billy, 
with  quick  sympathy.  "I  —  I  didn't  know 
—  what  —  I  was  —  talking  about, ' '  she  added 
with  emphatic  distinctness.  Then  she  smiled 
to  think  how  little  Cyril  knew  how  very  true 
those  words  were.  "  Tell  me  about  her,"  she 
begged  again.  "  I  know  she  must  be  very 
lovely  and  brilliant,  and  of  course  a  wonder- 
ful musician.  You  couldn't  choose  any  one 
else!  " 

To  her  surprise  Cyril  turned  abruptly  and 
began  to  play  again.  A  nervous  little  stac- 
cato scherzo  fell  from  his  fingers,  but  it 
dropped  almost  at  once  into  a  quieter  melody, 
and  ended  with  something  that  sounded  very 
much  like  the  last  strain  of  "  Home,  Sweet 
Home."  Then  he  wheeled  about  on  the  piano 
stool. 

"  Billy,  that's  exactly  where  you're  wrong 
-I  don't  want  that  kind  of  wife.  I  don't 
want  a  brilliant  one,  and  —  now,  Billy,  this 
sounds  like  horrible  heresy,  I  know,  but  it's 
true  —  I  don't  care  whether  she  can  play,  or 
not;  but  I  should  prefer  that  she  shouldn't 
play  —  much!  " 


354  Miss  Billy 


Cyril  Henshaw!  —  and  you,  with 
your  music!  As  if  you  could  be  contented 
with  a  woman  like  that!  ' 

"  Oh,  I  want  her  to  like  music,  of  course," 
modified  Cyril;  "  but  I  don't  care  to  have 
her  make  it.  Billy,  do  you  know?  You'll 
laugh,  of  course,  but  my  picture  of  a  wife  is 
always  one  thing:  a  room  with  a  table  and 
a  shaded  lamp,  and  a  little  woman  beside  it 
with  the  light  on  her  hair,  and  a  great  basket 
of  sewing  beside  her.  You  see  I  am  domes- 
tic! "  he  finished  a  little  defiantly. 

"  I  should  say  you  were,"  laughed  Billy. 
'  '  And  have  you  found  her  ?  —  this  little 
woman  who  is  to  do  nothing  but  sit  and  sew 
in  the  circle  of  the  shaded  lamp  I  ' 

"  Yes,  I've  found  her,  but  I'm  not  at  all 
sure  she's  found  me.  That's  where  I  want 
your  help.  Oh,  I  don't  mean,  of  course,"  he 
added,  "  that  she's  got  to  sit  under  that 
lamp  all  the  time.  It's  only  that  —  that  I 
hope  she  likes  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  And  —  does  she!  " 

"  Yes;  that  is,  I  think  she  does,"  smiled 
Cyril.  '  '  Anyhow,  she  told  me  once  that  — 


The  "  End  of  the  Story  "       355 

that  the  things  she  liked  best  to  do  in  all  the 
world  were  to  mend  stockings  and  to  make 
puddings. ' ' 

Billy  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  little  cry. 
Now,  indeed,  had  Cyril  kept  his  promise  and 
made  "  many  things  clear  "  to  her. 

"  Cyril,  come  here,"  she  cried  tremu- 
lously, leading  the  way  to  the  open  veranda 
door.  The  next  moment  Cyril  was  looking 
across  the  lawn  to  the  little  summerhouse  in 
the  midst  of  Billy's  rose  garden.  In  full  view 
within  the  summerhouse  sat  Marie  —  sewing. 

"  Go,  Cyril;  she's  waiting  for  you," 
smiled  Billy,  mistily.  "  The  light's  only  the 
sun,  to  be  sure,  and  maybe  there  isn  't  a  whole 
basket  of  sewing  there.  But  —  she's 
there!" 

"  You've  —  guessed,  then!  "  breathed 
Cyril. 

"  I've  not  guessed  —  I  know.  And  —  it's 
all  right." 

"  You  mean — f  "  Only  Cyril's  pleading 
eyes  finished  the  question. 

"  Yes,  I'm  sure  she  does,"  nodded  Billy. 
And  then  she  added  under  her  breath  as  the 


356  Miss  Billy 

man  passed  swiftly  down  the  steps :  "  '  Marie 
Henshaw  '  indeed!  So  'twas  Cyril  all  the 
time  —  and  never  Bertram  —  who  was  the 
inspiration  of  that  bit  of  paper  give-away!  ': 

When  she  turned  back  into  the  room  she 
came  face  to  face  with  Bertram. 

"  I  spoke,  dear,  but  you  didn't  hear,"  he 
said,  as  he  hurried  forward  with  outstretched 
hands. 

"  Bertram,"  greeted  Billy,  with  surprising 
irrelevance,  "  '  and  they  all  lived  happily 
ever  after'  —  they  did!  Isn't  that  always 
the  ending  to  the  story  —  a  love  story?  ' 

"  Of  course,"  said  Bertram  with  empha- 
sis; —  "  our  love  story!  " 

"  And  theirs,"  supplemented  Billy,  softly; 
but  Bertram  did  not  hear  that. 


THE   EISTD. 


&aaaBK®^&&&x^^ 

THE  TRIUMPH  OF  VIRGINIA  1 
DALE 

Another  GLAD  Book 

Trade  Mark 


By  John  Francis,  Jr. 

Cloth  decorative,  I2mo,  illustrated,  $1.90 


This  new  novel,  marking  the  advent  of  a  hitherto 
unknown  writer  of  fiction,  offers,  along  with  a  delight- 
ful romance  of  youth,  a  tinge  of  scintillating  humor 
that  stamps  itself  indelibly  on  the  mind  of  the  reader, 
and  evokes  many  a  sympathetic  chuckle.  It  fairly 
bubbles  over  with  exuberant  cheerfulness,  and  is  sure 
to  inject  a  good  share  of  its  unlimited  store  of  "  What's 
good  for  the  world  "  into  every  one  who  is  lucky  enough 
to  read  it. 

Furthermore,  the  peculiar  magnetism  of  the  char- 
acters is  such  that  the  reader  cannot  believe  they  are 
merely  book  creatures,  and,  we  wager  they  are  not. 
Virginia  Dale,  the  heroine,  is  a  Good  Samaritan,  Miss 
Sunshine,  and  Glad  Heart  —  all  of  these  —  and  yet  the 
most  natural  young  person  imaginable,  and  as  she  pro- 
gresses in  her  mission  of  "  brightening  up  the  corner  " 
she  builds  for  her  own  future  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
characters  fiction  has  ever  claimed. 

The  story  is  essentially  a  "  character "  story,  but 
this  does  not  detract  from  the  plot  what  it  just  seems  to 
get  in  the  natural  course  of  things,  for,  as  a  venerable 
reader  once  aptly  remarked :  "  When  story  folk  act 
natural,  we  ain't  goin'  to  forgit  'em." 

IC8SS3CKK83CKKF3 


THE  PRINCESS  NAIDA 


^«Sb  By  Brewer  Corcoran 

Author  of  "  The  Road  to  Le  Reve,"  etc. 

Cloth  decorative,  I2mo,  illustrated  by  H.  Weston  Taylor, 
$1.90 


Adventure  and  romance  are  the  keynotes  of  this  new 
novel  by  Brewer  Corcoran  —  adventure  which  will 
stir  the  blood  of  every  lover  of  fast-moving  action  and 
culminative  plot,  and  romance  which  will  charm  all 
who  have  a  tender  spot  for  a  lovably  beautiful  girl  and 
a  regular  "  he "  man.  It  is  a  tale  of  today,  set  amid 
the  mountains  of  Switzerland  and  the  ugly  rocks  of 
Bolshevism  on  which  is  wrecked  the  mythical  princi- 
pality of  Nirgendsberg  —  a  story  of  a  brave  little 
princess  who  puts  unfaltering  faith  in  American  man- 
hood and  resourcefulness  and  finds  a  newer  and  a  better 
throne.  Bill  Hale  is  the  sort  of  hero  who  would  win  any 
girl's  love  —  a  clever,  capable  chap  with  two  fists  and 
a  keen  sense  of  humor.  Whether  he  is  matching  wits 
with  suave  Count  Otto,  romping  with  tiny  Janos,  fight- 
ing for  his  life  in  the  hunting  lodge  at  Wolkensberg  or 
pleading  for  the  love  of  his  "princess  who  is  all  girl," 
he  is  a  man.  The  story  of  his  fight  for  all  that  counts 
in  life  is  told  with  a  rush  and  sweep  of  action  which 
will  hold  the  reader  breathless.  The  dialogue,  like  that 
in  Mr.  Corcoran's  other  books,  sparkles  with  humor, 
but  there  is  a  certain  pleasurable  grimness  in  his  method 
of  handling  the  Bolshevik  which  will  strike  an  answer- 
ing note  in  every  true  American  heart  today. 

"A  romance  of  vivid  interest,  a  love  story  full  of 
youth  and  adventures  that  thrill.  The  dialogue  is 
unusually  clever,  the  characters  delightfully  real,  the 
plot  one  that  holds  the  reader's  interest  to  the  end." 
New  York  Sun. 


&&Wt^^ 


&3B&SfX83BaBBCB^ 

A  FLOWER  OF  MONTEREY 

A  Romance  of  the  Californias 
FIT        By  Katherine  B.  Hamill  fl 

Cloth  decorative,  I2mo,  illustrated,  $1.90 


The  wealth,  beauty  and  sunshine  of  the  Californias  in 
the  days  when  Spain  controlled  our  western  coast  and 
England  looked  with  covetous  eyes,  form  the  setting 
for  this  beautiful  and  artistic  romance  by  a  new  author. 
Mrs.  Hamill  has  recreated  vividly  the  little  Spanish 
town  where  the  mission  bells  rang  silvery  at  dawn,  where 
scarlet  uniforms  flashed  in  the  stately  drill  of  an  after- 
noon dress  parade  and  beautiful  women  wore  lace 
mantillas.  Pajarita,  the  "  Flower  of  Monterey,"  is  an 
American  waif,  cast  up  by  the  sea,  who  grows  up  among 
the  senors  and  senoritas,  happy  as  the  sunshine,  but 
with  a  healthy  American  disrespect  for  the  Spanish 
modes  of  life.  Two  men  love  her  —  Don  Jose,  the 
gobernador  proprietaro  of  all  the  Californias,  and  a 
young  American  sailor-adventurer,  John  Asterly. 

John  Asterly,  the  hero  of  A  FLOWER  OF  MON- 
TEREY, came  to  the  Californias  from  Boston.  He  is 
perhaps  thirty  years  old,  adventurous  and  impetuous. 
At  a  dance  on  the  beach  at  Monterey,  shortly  after  his 
arrival  in  the  Californias,  he  meets  Pajarita,  "the 
Flower  of  Monterey,"  and  falls  in  love  with  the  girl, 
although  she  is  promised  to  her  benefactor,  the  Spanish 
Governor.  On  the  very  night  before  her  wedding, 
Asterly  tries  to  dissuade  Pajarita  from  her  marriage 
with  some  one  other  than  an  American,  and  then  the 
romance,  rivalry  and  adventure  begin.  The  historical 
setting  of  the  story  is  correct  and  the  romance  unfolds 
j:  with  dash  and  symmetry.  X 

&&^®&X&&^3^^ 


WILD  WINGS 


By  Margaret  R.  Piper 

Author  of  "Sylvia's  Experiment,"  "The  House  on  the 
Hill,"  "  Sylvia  Arden  Decides,"  etc. 

Cloth  decorative,  ismo,  illustrated,  $1.90 


In  this  "  story  of  youth  for  grown-ups,"  the  vigorous, 
happy  Holiday  youngsters  who  lived  in  the  "  House  on 
the  Hill  "  develop  into  keen,  lovable  young  people, 
thoroughly  worth  knowing.  To  Tony,  as  brilliant  and 
beautiful  as  a  girl  can  well  be  and  still  be  human,  comes 
a  successful  theatrical  career  on  Broadway,  and  a  great 
love,  and  Larry  grows  into  the  industrious,  reliant 
young  doctor  that  one  would  expect  him  to  be. 

Few  writers  today  display  the  ability  which  Miss 
Piper  does  to  "grow  up"  a  large  family  of  boys  and 
girls,  each  with  an  individuality  well  developed  and 
attractive,  and  her  Holiday  family  holds  a  distinctive 
place  in  American  fiction  for  young  people  today. 

As  the  charming  characters  work  their  way  out  of 
problems  which  face  all  young  people  of  buoyant  spirits 
and  ambitions,  WILD  WINGS  gives  a  definite  message 
as  to  the  happiest  relationship  between  old  and  young. 

"  There  is  a  world  of  human  nature  and  neighborhood 
contentment  in  Margaret  R.  Piper's  books  of  good 
cheer.  Her  tales  are  well  proportioned  and  subtly 
strong  in  their  literary  aspects  and  quality."  North 
American,  Philadelphia. 

&0^&X%X&Q8XXQ^^ 


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